


shrike

by Skyson



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Future Fic, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 07, Song Inspired, Unreliable Narrator, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: "You need to tell him, Buffy.""I can't even... he deserves someone to shout it across the rooftops. Someone bold.""Buffy Summers, not bold?""Not about this.""Well, maybe start with a whisper. Work your way up to the shouting."
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Buffy Summers
Comments: 58
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Hozier's "Shrike".
> 
>   
> _~flashbacks~_

* * *

_I couldn't utter my love when it counted_   
_Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now  
  
_

——  
  


"Tuck your elbows!" Giles called out in reminder as he observed the two Slayers sparring in the middle of the room. The girl he was primarily speaking to finally realized her error, just in time to block what would've been a nasty hit to her ribs. She deflected it, and then parried.  
  


While these two were a little more brawl than he was used to in recent years, they were still quite good. Where they lacked finesse, they made up for with sheer unwillingness to stay down.  
  


As usual, his thoughts turned to Buffy; a memory overlapping the scene in front of him. Her balance and poise still astounded him, even more so to this day as he couldn't help but compare everyone to her. At the very least, he managed to keep most of those comparisons in his mind. It wasn't fair to pit new Slayers against _The_ Slayer.  
  


_~"You're still dropping your shoulder!"~_

_~"Ugh, sorry,"~_

_~"Oof- alright... why don't we take a break for a few minutes."~_

_~"...Are you okay? I really didn't mean to hit you that hard."~_

_~"I'll be fine, Buffy. You merely caught me unaware. Which, honestly, is very good. Always be aware of your opponent, Buffy, for the moment they aren't."~_

_~"You're complimenting me for hurting you?"~_

_~"I'm not hurt,"~_

_~"Then why are you breathing that shallowly?"~_

_~"I'm... it hurt a little."~_

_~"I'll go get some ice!"~_

_~"...Buffy, I can hold it myself."~_

_~"Just relax, and let me okay? It's my fault you've got bruised ribs. Just sit back and stop fidgeting."~_   
  


_..._   
  


_~"Hey, did you see that! He went, 'boom!' and I went, 'woosh!' and Bob's your uncle!"~_

_~"Well done, Buffy. It's quite brilliant, how far you've come."~_

_~"Aww, Watcher-mine. Careful there, you almost showed some emotion!"~_

_~"Perhaps you've not come so far as I'd thought..."~_

_~"No take-backs!"~_

_~"I wouldn't dream of it... don't forget to clean your sword."~_

_~"Right. I oughta do one-hit beheadings more often! Look at me! Not a drop of demon goo to be found."~_

_~"Impeccable,"~_

_~"Tease,"~_

  
Giles furrowed his brow slightly as his memories faded away. They weren't entirely correct; interspersed with moments and phrases that he'd _wished_ happened at the time.  
  


He never did tell her, often enough, how proud he was of her. He'd tried to make up for it, but he wasn't sure that he'd succeeded in those endeavors. Not to his satisfaction, at any rate.  
  


"Mr. Giles?"  
  


"Yes, Robert?" Giles pulled himself back into focus on the room and answered one of the boys' questions. The other students in the class were sitting in a wide circle around the mats, watching the match and taking notes.  
  


"How did you train your Slayer, if she didn't have another Slayer to fight with?"  
  


The memory of Buffy's frustrated punch to his sternum lingered, and he even found himself reaching up to rub the spot, as if it ached again.  
  


"I trained with her," Giles answered calmly, slowly strolling around the circle, his eyes still on the sparring partners. "And living on the Hellmouth trained her. There is no better way to learn than to do, after all."  
  


" _You_ sparred with Buffy Summers?" One of the fighters paused briefly, catching her breath, and they both lowered their hands slightly as they focused their attentions on him more than each other. Giles frowned at them.  
  


"Now there is no need to sound so incredulous." He huffed, and then gestured at them. "Continue." They both gave him a dubious look for another moment before turning and moving as one, back into the fight as if the interlude had never happened.  
  


_~"Mmf... ngh,"~_

_~"Oh God, I've killed you."~_

_~"I'm not dead, yet,"~_

_~"Maybe you should break out those safety pads again..."~_

_~"Just give me a moment, Buffy. I assure you that I'm fine ... though, perhaps in need of a little resuscitation,"~_

_~"Mouth to mouth?"~_

_~"Better be quick about it, I'm feeling faint..."~_

  
Giles shook his head. After Buffy had smirked at him - _Mouth to mouth?_ \- he'd lost his gumption and stammered something about water, instead. He hadn't expected her to go along with the joke in that way, and he had panicked. He often wondered what would have happened had he continued with where his mind had _wished_ he'd gone...  
  


The bell rang noon, startling them all, and Giles once again refocused as the students began gathering themselves to head to lunch.  
  


"I'm never gonna be as good as her... but I'm getting better, right?" One of the girls stood in front of him as she dried the perspiration from her face with a towel.  
  


"You know that I would never compare you all to an active Slayer; that would hardly be fair," Giles began, and she snorted, grinning.  
  


"Maybe not out loud," She replied, strolling over to her bag to sling it over her shoulder.  
  


Giles watched with some alarm; had he been that transparent?  
  


"Don't worry, Boss - it's not a bad sort of pressure or anything. She's a good woman to look up to."  
  


"The best." He couldn't help but murmur in agreement, and the young lady's smile widened.  
  


"Thank you for the new moves today, Mr. Giles," She gave him a little wave as she stepped back toward the doorway, following the rest of her classmates out, "I'll be sure to work on them outside of class, too. I hope my Watcher loves me as much as you do your Slayer."  
  


She bounced away, slipping into the hallway before Giles could respond. He sighed, and removed his glasses to rub his nose.  
  


If the Council of old only knew... how they were now encouraging bonds between Slayers and their Watchers? How deep friendship, a sense of brotherly love, was stressed as important to the cause as training?  
  


Giles chuckled wryly under his breath.  
  


"It's pretty obvious," Xander's familiar voice startled Giles and he jerked his gaze back toward the door, finding his old friend standing there leaning against the doorframe, a boyish grin on his face. "It always has been; the way you talk about her. You haven't changed a bit."  
  


"Xander!" Giles put his glasses back on and stepped toward the door, meeting Xander halfway and sharing a strong, heartfelt hug.  
  


"Lookin' good, Giles. Finally realized it was safer for you to be off of the mats, huh?" Xander teased as they parted. Giles pursed his lips, but couldn't pretend to be annoyed for very long; he was too overjoyed to see his friend here in London.  
  


"How are you?" Giles asked warmly, ignoring Xander's other comments. "What brings you to London?"  
  


"Visiting our friendly neighborhood witch-gal," Xander explained, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walked with Giles out into the hall, heading toward Giles' office. "Plane just landed and I figured I'd stop by and check in on my favorite Watcher before I headed to her office."  
  


"I'm glad that you did," Giles replied honestly, smiling, and Xander grinned as well, nodding in agreement. He looked pleased, too, even a little touched, and Giles understood that.  
  


In the last few years, he'd tried to be a bit more open with them, emotionally. Show them how much he truly cared for them.  
  


He wanted to make up with the Scoobies what he'd failed to do with Buffy.  
  


_~"Buffy! ... Are you alright?"~_

_~"Slayer, Giles. Nothin' keeps me down for long. Not even death."~_

_~"Buffy..."~_

_~"Bad joke. Sorry."~_

_~"Just... do be a little more careful? There's still two more of those demons out here somewhere,"~_

_~"Aw, you're worried about me."~_

_~"Of course I worry about the woman I- "~_

  
Giles had cut himself off so fast that he had started coughing on his own spit, having inhaled too sharply. Buffy's expression had changed, just for a moment, but then the demons decided to show themselves and the conversation was dropped.  
  


Neither of them had mentioned it, for the rest of patrol. Buffy had never asked about it the following day, or the following week, or, ever.  
  


That had been years ago, now.  
  


"...and so I asked 'em what really was haggis, anyway, and you should have _seen_ the face Buffy gave me. The whole room quieted, like they'd _all_ managed to hear me, somehow, and finally one of the ladies leaned in close and whispered, 'We don' talk about that.' Giles - her _hair_ , so curly and - God, she was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Human vengeance demons excluded, anyway."  
  


Giles startled, realizing that he'd zoned out again, this time in the middle of a story. He winced at Xander's attempt of a Scottish accent, but he couldn't help but wonder with hope in his voice,  
  


"Buffy?"  
  


"Yeah, thought that'd get your attention." Xander smirked, lounging himself across one of the chairs that Giles had just picked a stack of books off of.  
  


"I- I was listening." Giles protested, embarrassed, turning away to find a place to set the books, before settling into his seat behind his desk. There was an awkward bit of silence as Xander just smirked knowingly at him, and eventually Giles sighed heavily and removed his glasses. "How is she?"  
  


Xander shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, as if he'd just been waiting for Giles to ask that question, and his smirk widened.  
  


"She's doing really great, best I can tell. Seems solid, you know? In the zone." He made a vague gesture with his hands that Giles suspected alluded to some pop culture reference that he didn't understand. "I think she's really happy to have a baby Slayer that she can train. They work really well together, too - I got to see them in action a bit when a vampire made the ill-timed decision to stake out our pub for a new victim." Xander suddenly grinned even wider. "Ha, get it? Stake out?"  
  


"I didn't miss that, no." Giles replied wryly, trying not to look too wistful or jealous. Buffy in action was a sight to behold, indeed. He could only imagine how she has grown and honed her skills in the years that she's grown into adulthood. The sheer fact that she was well into early adulthood now was striking enough.  
  


"You're zoning again, G-man." Xander laughed, and Giles scowled out of reflex.  
  


"Don't call me that."  
  


"... Does she know, Giles?" Xander asked, his voice suddenly soft and rather tender. Giles tilted his head to the side slightly, pretending not to follow. "Buffy. She asked about you, too, you know." He took a breath, as Giles visibly brightened at that. "Does she know you're in love with her?"  
  


"I n-never said that I was in- in love with her." Giles immediately defended himself, but then fretted that he didn't sound defensive enough. Or, perhaps, too defensive.  
  


"There are other ways to say it, Giles." Xander replied sagely, giving him a soft look. Giles blinked, and dropped his shoulders with a silent, weary sigh. "You find a way to sing her praises to anyone who'll listen - and look, it's well-deserved, alright? Damn straight we should be proud of her - but really... all of your students know how you feel, and _she_ doesn't."  
  


"It's too late for that, Xander." Giles eventually told him, tossing his glasses to the desk and resting against the back of his chair. "I couldn't say it when it mattered... when it counted." Stronger, he added, "All that matters now is her legacy. That the Council, the Slayers, everyone - knows just how much Buffy has done for the world we live in. All that she continues to do."  
  


"It still counts, Giles. She's still alive, you're still alive." Xander insisted, furrowing his brow worriedly, straightening in his seat. "Take it from somebody who royally screwed up the greatest love of his life - the counting never stops, so long as the love is still there."  
  


While his phrasing was a bit odd, Giles imagined he understood what Xander was getting at. Still...  
  


"As you said, she is living her life well and to the fullest. She's happy, and doing good work. I won't interfere with that."  
  


"That's where you're wrong - where you've _always_ been wrong - you're not an interference, Giles. Never."  
  


Xander's words touched him, and he smiled a bittersweet smile for a moment.  
  


"When are you meeting with Willow?" He asked in a lighter tone, carefully changing the subject. "There's a wonderful pub just a couple of blocks from here,"  
  


"After crossing an entire country _and_ an ocean, a drink or two would be _fantastic_ ," Xander admitted with relief, allowing the subject change. His eyes followed Giles carefully as the Watcher went about closing up his office for the day, but Giles pretended not to notice.


	2. Chapter 2

_And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted_  
_Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now_

  
——  
  


"How many countries have we visited in the past month?" Buffy groaned, collapsing onto her back on one of the beds in the room.  
  


"Five," Sam replied with a mirrored groan as she fell face-first onto the other bed, pushed against the opposite wall. "No. Six, counting this one."  
  


"I call break, after we deal with these things," Buffy proposed. "This b-and-b is pretty cool; we could stay here. There are even horses."  
  


"Since when did you like horses?" Sam rolled onto her side so that she could give Buffy a suspicious eyebrow.  
  


"I'm... curious." Buffy replied defensively, and Sam snorted.  
  


"You wanna go back to Giles and show him that you learned how to ride," Sam corrected knowingly, and Buffy pursed her lips but turned her gaze toward the ceiling, not deigning that with a response. "He's the one you talk about with horses, all the time."  
  


"I do not!" Buffy protested, and she huffed and rolled onto her back.  
  


"Sorry - you talk about _Giles_ all the time, not horses."  
  


"Shut up before I decide to eat your dinner rations." Buffy grumbled, and Sam immediately pushed herself up onto her elbows and gave Buffy a warning look.  
  


They both had ferocious Slayer appetites, so threatening food was pretty much the highest threat they could make to one another.  
  


_~"What did you do? All that time away?"~_

_~"I rested, I healed. I looked after Willow, and helped train her."~_

_~"Well, yeah, but like... what did you do?"~_

_~"I practiced a small bit of magics, myself. Found a comfortable place for it within me, again. A lot of meditating..."~_

_~"Of course,"~_

_~"Horseback riding..."~_

_~"What?"~_

_~"What, what?"~_

_~"You? On horseback? Like - Black Stallion, Secretariat, neigh-neigh-give-me-a-carrot horse?"~_

_~Giles had laughed at that, so warmly and loosely that Buffy had only been further surprised.~_

_~"He's a wonderful, quite noble Paint. And I'll have you know he preferred sugar cubes over carrots."~_

_~"Sweet tooth, just like you," Buffy grinned, his joy infectious. It was clear that he had a lot of respect, a lot of care, for this horse. "Is he yours?"~_

_~"Technically, yes. However as I am not often on the property, there are caretakers that tend to him primarily. He still remembers me, the good lad."~_

_~"Well, you're unforgettable."~_

  
"Earth to Buffy. Hey. I'm gonna go eat your dinner,"  
  


"What? No! What? Don't you dare!" Buffy forced herself back into focus when she realized that Sam was standing next to her bed, leaning over her. Sam laughed and held a hand out to help Buffy to her feet.  
  


"Daydreaming," She sing-songed, and Buffy lightly punched her arm. "You know what you Americans say..." She trailed off for a long moment, until Buffy looked at her pointedly. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy."  
  


"We do _not_ say that!" Buffy protested, reaching for her, but she was already hurrying out of the room, laughing all the way. "Just because he knows how to ride doesn't make Giles a cowboy, anyway." Buffy grumbled to herself as she locked up their room behind her, taking the time to hide the blush on her cheeks.  
  


"Who ever said I was talking about Giles?" Sam replied innocently, and Buffy growled under her breath. Sam laughed again, but thankfully let it go.  
  


For the time being, anyway. She frequently got a lot of kicks out of teasing Buffy about her old Watcher.  
  


Buffy knew it was her own fault. She just couldn't help but mention him, whenever they came across a demon species that she recognized having fought before, or whenever she was teaching Sam some new moves, or... well, really just whenever. The worst was when she could catch Willow or Xander on the phone. Willow, especially, had the most frequent contact with Giles, and Buffy was always desperate for stories.  
  


Buffy knew that she talked about him too much.  
  


Particularly when Sam managed to persuade her into one-too-many pints. Turns out Sam could hold her Guinness _way_ better than Buffy could ever dream of. Ever since Buffy had blurted out her feelings in frustrated annoyance, she'd lost any rebuttal to Sam's teasings. She knew the truth - and Giles himself didn't even know.  
  


_~"Giles? ... I love you."~_

  
He didn't _really_ know.  
  


_~"I've missed you, so much, Giles."~_

_~"I've missed you, too."~_

_~"I'm glad you're back."~_

_~"I'm glad you are, too."~_

  
When Giles had come back to Sunnydale, she'd wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to drag him up to her room and keep him there for three days straight... at least.  
  


When they'd fought, she'd wanted to punch him, and then wanted to kiss him - hard and biting and drawing blood. She'd wanted to tear his clothes off and push him against the wall. Giles was passionate when he was angry, and she'd wanted any form of passion from him that she could get.  
  


That had sort of scared her, admittedly. So instead, she'd done her best to avoid him. And she'd certainly kept herself from being alone with him for any significant amount of time.  
  


And then their world had ended. A new one needed planning. New Slayers needed training, and new Watchers, too. Outposts needed building. Connections and friendships needed formed - and yet, during all of that, Buffy couldn't stop thinking about a certain night back at Revello Drive... a quiet night, a moment of relief in the nightmare that was the First Evil.  
  


"Buffy? Where are you going?" Sam's voice drew her back into the present, and she hesitated. She was halfway out the back door, apparently heading toward the porch.  
  


"I... sorry. I was thinking about... something else." She had been back at her home in Sunnydale, about to follow Giles out onto the porch and kiss him senseless under the moonlight, regardless about the house full of people behind them.  
  


She wasn't in Sunnydale, though, and Giles wasn't anywhere near.  
  


And she'd not gotten up the courage to follow him out that night. It was more of a dream, than a memory.  
  


"Come on, you need to recuperate," Sam's tone became compassionate and she gestured that Buffy enter the dining room ahead of her. "Let's get some food in us."  
  


A man occupied the small table by the window, and a couple were seated together on stools at the island counter in the attached kitchen, but other than that the room was quiet.  
  


The food prepared by the owners was delicious, warm, and completely filling. By the time the two ladies made it back to their room, they were both ready to pass out from exhaustion.  
  


"Sleep in, tomorrow?" Sam mumbled as she struggled into her pajamas.  
  


"Seconded." Buffy replied, kicking her shoes off before falling into her bed and shuffling half-heartedly beneath the duvet.  
  


She slept deeply, her dreams too unfocused and drifty to be recalled in the morning. When she eventually awoke, though, she felt fully rested and energized.  
  


There was a certain peace within her, as well, that normally only came after a good meditation session. A peace that came to her after training with her Watcher. She couldn't remember her dreams, but she smiled anyway, knowing that Giles must've been in them.  
  


"Let's ask the owners what they know about the attacks that have been going on recently, see if we can get a jump on these demons today."  
  


"After breakfast?" Sam poked her head out of the attached bathroom, a hopeful look on her face. Buffy glanced at the clock on the wall above the door.  
  


"A late breakfast. We'll have to see what's left."  
  


"The sooner we take care of these things, the sooner we can head to England!" Sam crowed excitedly, disappearing back into the bathroom.  
  


"England?" Buffy hesitated after pulling a change of clothes from her suitcase. "Who said that we were - I thought we could just stay here during our break?"  
  


"I want to see the new Council building. I want to try out the training equipment they have. Most importantly," Sam popped her head around the corner again to give Buffy a look, "I want to meet your Giles."  
  


"He's not _my_ \- " Buffy stopped, and huffed, at Sam's raised eyebrow.  
  


"You need to tell him, Buffy."  
  


"Tell him?" Buffy repeated incredulously.  
  


"You told me." Sam pointed out, before focusing back on her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she drew her brush through her hair.  
  


"I was _drunk_!" Buffy protested.  
  


"You weren't _that_ drunk."  
  


"I can't even..." Buffy sighed heavily as she brushed her finger against the leather-bound notebook tucked between her folded clothes. "He deserves... he deserves someone to like, shout it across the rooftops. Someone bold."  
  


"Buffy Summers, _not_ bold?" Sam snorted.  
  


"Not about this." Buffy admitted softly.  
  


"Well... maybe start with a whisper." Sam suggested thoughtfully. "Work your way up to the shouting."  
  


"... Maybe."  
  


The prospect of seeing him again, after this mission was over, had her pulse jumping wildly beneath her skin. She smiled, and began to dress quickly. Sam was right - the sooner they caught these demons, the sooner they could go to England.


	3. Chapter 3

_Words hung above, but never would form_  
_Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn_  
_Remember me, love, when I'm reborn_  
_As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn_  
  


——  
  


It took them, together, a good number of minutes to fell the beast, and they both stood over it for a moment, panting, glancing at one another warily.  
  


That had been far more difficult than expected.  
  


"Maybe we should call- "  
  


"Move!" Buffy ordered, leaping forward to push Sam out of the way as another demon leapt out from the tall grass at the edge of a valley that cut into the hill they were on.  
  


It landed on her, instead, and they rolled a few times before Buffy found herself on top, both hands against its neck to keep its snapping jaws away from her. Its claws pawed at her, catching her thick jacket and ripping into it.  
  


"Stake! Sword! Something!" Buffy managed to grind out.  
  


Sam was already on it, having retrieved her sword where it'd been dropped from their last scuffle, and brought it down sharply on the demon's neck, expertly missing Buffy's fingers. It took three hacks with the blade but then the demon quivered and then went slack, as the head rolled away, and Buffy pushed herself off of it immediately. She flopped onto her back with a heavy breath, but looking up at Sam's face immediately set a new burst of adrenalin coursing through her.  
  


Following her gaze, she noted three more of the demons stalking toward them slowly, each of them snarling. Quickly Buffy hurled back to her feet, her eyes zeroed in on the approaching beasts.   
  


"Sam- " It was common sense. Buffy was tiring which meant Sam had to be downright exhausted at this point. There was no way that they could take on all three of the demons. "Take the bag. Get back to the b-and-b. Now."  
  


"What?!" Sam averted her gaze back to Buffy, incredulous. "Are you nuts?! I'm not leaving you alone here!"  
  


"Somebody needs to inform the Council!" Buffy pointed out sharply, knowing that the only way Sam would leave would be under direct orders. "We need a full team out here on this. All of my notes are in the room, alright?" She grasped Sam's arm firmly, a compassionate gesture before tugging her behind her. "You don't need the massive paperwork and shit-storm leaving those weapons behind would cause - take them with you. Go!" Her own discarded sword was a few feet away, and if she was quick...  
  


"Buffy- "  
  


"You're good, kid. Someday, you're gonna be the best." Buffy told her seriously, honestly, offering her one quick smile.  
  


Then she turned and darted off toward the rocky incline on her right, capturing the group of demons' attentions immediately. She bent to retrieve her sword as she passed, thankfully gripping the hilt firmly - she wouldn't have risked slowing down to scramble for it in the grass had she fumbled with it.  
  


After only a couple of seconds, she heard Sam's feet scrambling against the grass and stones to grab the bag of weapons, before scampering away. Buffy felt relieved, even as the snarling grew louder behind her. All three of them were focused on her alone, probably wanting revenge for the death of their alpha.  
  


"Hey, boys," Buffy turned around at the first decent-sized flat area she reached, facing her enemy. "Who's up to bat first?" She hoisted her sword high and planted her feet.  
  


When she eventually managed to kill the one that attacked her alone, the remaining two decided enough was enough, and jumped her in unison.  
  


It was interesting, how different it was this time. The dying.  
  


Whether due to the adrenalin coursing through her, or something else, Buffy didn't quite experience the fight in one flowing passage of time. There was the angry growling of monsters, the yelps of pain when her sword hit true. The sharp sting in her skin when one of their claws caught her.  
  


But then her sword was gone, her hands empty.  
  


Her fingers, digging into one of the beasts' eyes as she barely held its jaws off of her with her other hand.  
  


Blood in her mouth - did she bite her tongue, or cough up the blood?  
  


Her sword arm wouldn't quite listen to her, and her side felt hot and wet - blood. A lot of it. She actually had to glance down and make sure her arm was still attached to her body.  
  


It wasn't until her leg gave out beneath her that she really started to accept the situation.  
  


Sam got away, that was what mattered. She was safe, and she'd bring back a whole team of Slayers and Watchers, and they would save these townspeople for good.  
  


Buffy was surprised by the amount of time she seemed to have, to think, before she passed out. To remember. To say that her life flashed before her eyes wouldn't quite be accurate, but, she did think of a few different people.  
  


Her sister.  
  


The Scoobies.  
  


Giles.  
  


"Oh, Giles." Her heart broke, because she knew that his would. Once again, he would be faced with her death.  
  


She wasn't sure what happened, after that. She must've blacked out, but the fact that she awoke again was what shocked her. She was alone, now; left to die on the rocky cliffs of the island, the demons apparently deciding to move on to something possibly of the more edible variety.  
  


They were certainly bigger fans of haggis than Xander.  
  


That thought made laughter burble up through Buffy, but she immediately winced and gasped, choking on blood as she rolled over to cough it out.  
  


"Buffy..."  
  


She shifted her cheek against the cool ground, blearily searching for the owner of the soft, familiar voice.  
  


"Buffy, come on. We're going to be late." She smiled down endearingly at Buffy, gesturing for her to follow, before stepping further up the hills.  
  


"Mom?"


	4. Chapter 4

_I'd no idea on what ground I was founded_  
_All of that goodness is going with you now_  
_Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted_  
_All of my goodness is going with you now_

  
——

  
A light knock on his office door sounded, but Giles barely heard it. After another knock, he granted entry and glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering who it could be. The funeral wouldn't begin for another hour or so.  
  


"Mr. Giles?" The young woman that stood hesitantly in his doorway looked impossibly young, and nervous, and devastated. She held a small leather-bound book clutched in her hands.  
  


"Yes? Miss...?" He tried to put on a polite face, though she was dressed in mourning clothes as well as he and the somber mood in the room only increased.  
  


"O'Connor." She murmured. "Samantha."  
  


His expression softened as he realized who she was, and he beckoned her to enter the room fully. She did so, though slowly, and he could see that she was fighting to keep her shoulders square.  
  


"You were there."  
  


"Yes," Her whispered response was quieter than anything else she'd said thus far, but then she spoke more strongly, "I- I have something... I was going through her things, boxing them up, and..." Instead of finishing her sentence, she stepped close enough to hold out the book in his direction.  
  


"Buffy Summers had a _book_ in her possession?" Giles wondered with a slightly raised eyebrow as he slowly accepted the proffered gift.  
  


Ms. O'Connor seemed to half smirk against her will, but then quickly averted her eyes and tucked her hands behind her back.  
  


"We'd travelled together for a while," She began to explain. "Buffy talked about you a lot. So when I saw your name in the front of the book, I figured... Well, she wanted you to have it, and tracking you down was the least I could do."  
  


At this statement, he lifted his eyes from the warm leather in his hands to meet her hard stare head-on. He blinked in surprise at the sudden strength she presented, and he inherently knew that she would make a fine Lead Slayer one day.  
  


"Is this a journal?" He asked, surprised at that discovery as well, as he slowly unwound the strap of leather that bound it closed. The book felt well-worn, the leather binding easily malleable in his hands, though it was still well put together even with the obvious addition of extra pages in the latter half of the book. Buffy'd had this for a while, it seemed. It had traveled with her around the world.  
  


"I'll... leave you to it." Ms. O'Connor hesitated in the doorway, again. "I'm so sorry."  
  


"Whatever for?" Giles quickly looked up to her again before opening the journal's cover. "You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing." He informed her seriously, and earnestly. Tears welled in her eyes, and his heart constricted within his chest.  
  


This girl - barely in her twenties, if he recalled correctly - had been the last person that laid eyes on Buffy. She had been the only reason that Buffy hadn't died in vain.  
  


"I shouldn't have hid," Ms. O'Connor frowned darkly, clearly deep within her self-deprecation over the event. "I shouldn't have left her to fight alone."  
  


"I read the reports," Giles mentioned, gritting his teeth against his own emotion as he attempted to comfort this girl. "She had given you a direct order. Beyond that - she saved your life. That's what Buffy does, what she always- ... has always done." He moved within reaching distance of her, and briefly touched his hand against her shoulder. "Do not blame yourself for this. Understand? I don't blame you, and neither would Buffy."  
  


Her lip trembled, and seeming to have heard what she needed, she nodded and quickly swiped her hand against her eye before her tears fell. She cleared her throat, her shoulders straightening once more, and Giles dropped his hand.  
  


"The rest of her things are with her sister. I don't know if there's anything else she wanted you to have, but... I figured that was private." She gestured her head toward the journal in his hands, met his eyes for one more impossibly lingering moment, and then turned and quickly disappeared down the hall.  
  


Giles shut himself back in his office with a shaking hand, collapsing back into his chair with his entire focus pointed toward the book in his hands.  
  


Opening the front cover, he was immediately met with her familiar handwriting. He touched his fingers against it, gingerly.  
  


_journal of buffy summers_  
  


On the following page it read, ' _Should anything happen to me, give this to Rupert Giles. He's a Book Guy - he'll know what to do with it._ '  
  


His heart pounded painfully against his chest. Even after everything they'd been through those last days together, everything they'd said to one another, she'd still wanted him... wanted him to have some part of her life.  
  


They hadn't been in horrible standing with each other before she... before the incident in Scotland, but Giles never would have expected something like this. For her to bequeath things to him upon her death. It was...  
  


Turning the page, wondering if he should read it now, or wait until after the funeral, or if he should ever read it at all, he caught the first words nonetheless.  
  


' _Dear Giles,_ '  
  


Giles sucked in a harsh breath as the tightness in his chest increased tenfold. Flipping a few pages through, merely glancing, his eyes welled up with fresh tears.  
  


Each new entry began the same way.  
  


She hadn't written to the pages themselves, or to some faceless entity in the Council. She'd been writing _to him_. The whole time. Perhaps with the assumption that he'd never read these words, she nevertheless wrote them for him anyway.  
  


Giles clutched the leather-bound book in his hands and dropped his head, and wept.  
  


... ... ...

  
"Giles?" Xander poked his head into the room, catching Giles just as he was heading to refill his whiskey glass. Xander's brow furrowed and he entered the room fully, not shying away before putting his hand over the decanter before Giles could pull the lid off. "It's starting soon."  
  


"I know." Giles replied despondently, thinking over the last entry he had read. Once he'd started reading, he couldn't stop, desperate to hold on to the way he could hear her voice through the pages.  
  


She'd been happy. Enjoying her work, being able to travel, training Sam and both of them learning as they worked together... being her own kind of Slayer. Becoming Buffy, the woman.  
  


"Can we... hold off on the drinking for a bit?" Xander questioned, mostly serious. He understood Giles' way of mourning, but he also was aware of other variables, variables which he reminded Giles of, "Dawn wants you there... we all want you there."  
  


Giles set his glass down heavily next to the whiskey decanter, and stared at it instead of Xander's face.  
  


"C'mon," Xander encouraged gently, reaching to grip Giles' wrist and lift it in one hand while tugging at the journal with his other.  
  


"No," Giles immediately yanked the book away from Xander and tucked it close in his arm. "I'll- I'll be there in a minute."  
  


Xander looked confused, even wary, of Giles' desperation to keep the book, but shifted his hand to grasp Giles' shoulder firmly.  
  


"Walk with me."  
  


Giles lifted his gaze to meet Xander's and finally saw the pain reflected in his own.  
  


Of course. He wasn't the only one mourning Buffy. A part of him knew, even in the depths as he was right now, that spending time with the gang would at the very least help ease the weighted gloom on his shoulders.  
  


He shouldn't make the same mistake twice.  
  


He rubbed his thumb against the soft leather of the journal, and then nodded to Xander, and together they walked quietly out into the hall and toward the elevator. Xander pushed the call button, and they waited for the elevator to reach them.  
  


"I loved her." Giles blurted. He closed his eyes and grimaced.  
  


"I know, Giles." Xander replied gently, and Giles opened his eyes when he felt Xander's comforting hand on his shoulder. "You still do, yeah?" He figured, not really asking. Giles slumped his shoulders and nodded.  
  


"I always will."  
  


Xander nodded as if in agreement with him, and then let his hand slip from his shoulder.  
  


"Should've known you'd be caught up reading," Xander teased lightly, attempting to soften the mood a little. Giles looked down at the book still clutched tightly in his hand, then lifted it up to his nose, breathing in the scent of the pages.  
  


Whether a figment of his mind or actually ensconced within the paper and ink, he swore that he could smell her perfume.  
  


"It's Buffy's." He admitted softly, and Xander glanced over at him in surprise as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.  
  


"Buffy? Owns a book?"  
  


"That's what I said," Giles couldn't help but smirk a tiny bit, fondly running his fingers against the leather again as he lowered it, leading the way into the elevator.  
  


"Guess that's why Sam was looking for you, huh?" Xander figured, watching his gestures carefully.  
  


"Sam? Ah, yes, Samantha O'Connor." Giles nodded, his thoughts a mile away.  
  


' _She's got a good head on her shoulders. Nothing like how I was when I first discovered my calling. She reminds me a little of Kendra, actually... does her reading, takes training maybe a little too seriously... Except, of course, she also knows how to function in society outside of the slaying. You'd like her, Giles. In fact, if you were in the market for a new Slayer, I'd..._ '  
  


There had been many empty spaces between the end of that thought and her next line,  
  


' _Even with Sam, I can't even write the hypothetical thought. Ha, Willow was so right. I'm way too territorial about you. Guess I always have been. Anyway, I think you get what I'm saying... if I weren't around, I'd trust her to watch your back. Keep you from getting concussed all the time, you know, and et cetera._ '  
  


She'd drawn a smiling face at the end of the sentence, and it had pulled a chuckle out of him the first time he saw it.  
  


' _Yeah, I know what et cetera means. And I know how to spell it._'  
  


As the elevator signaled each floor it passed on the way to ground level, Giles' pulse seemed to increase. The scotch had helped calm him, somewhat, but he could've done with another glass.  
  


"Did you two... talk about it?" Xander wondered hesitantly.  
  


"Xander..."  
  


"I just," The young man shifted on his feet, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It's just hard for me to believe, you know? Even though it's happened before - hell, maybe it's _because_ this has happened before. ... I keep expecting Buffy to walk around the corner with a casual 'what's up, guys'."  
  


Both men were silent as they stepped out of the elevator and slowly made their way toward the front doors of the main lobby.  
  


"She's already out-lived every recorded Slayer before her within the past three centuries," Giles noted, proud of that. It was a bittersweet record to have, of course.  
  


"Still..." Xander sighed heavily. "Knowing it was gonna happen eventually doesn't make it any easier."  
  


"No," Giles agreed, "it does not."


	5. Chapter 5

_Dragging along, follow in your form_  
_Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn_  
_Remember me, love, when I'm reborn_  
_As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn_

  
——

  
At first the murmurs were entirely about the Slayer.  
  


"You know, she lived longer than any other before her. Isn't that crazy?"  
  


"Still, she was what? Thirty? Do you think we'll live that long?"  
  


"I think because of her, because there are so many of us now, yeah. We don't have to worry so much about dying young."  
  


"Still, I hope I go out like that. She saved Sam's life, you know? Gave her own. That's noble."  
  


"She was definitely badass. I wish I could have met her. Have you heard about the stuff the two of them did while they were traveling the world? Some of the demons they slayed would make your hair fall out!"  
  


After a couple of days, however, more information had spread throughout the campus.  
  


"Mr. Giles was her Watcher for a long time, did you know that?"  
  


"Don't you guys read? They're like, infamous. They rebelled against the Old Council. He'd been _fired_ and Buffy had quit!"  
  


"Is that even possible? To just... quit?"  
  


"I think more so now than it had been back then. The way it's written, the Old Council was _not_ happy about any of it."  
  


"Do you think he... do you think, when she died, that he _knew_? That he felt it or something?"  
  


"Well, I don't think they've been working together that closely in the last few years. He hasn't _technically_ been her Watcher for a while. Anyway, I also don't think the Watcher-Slayer bond works that way."  
  


"How would you know for sure? You always slack off on the honing stuff."  
  


Giles felt his eyes tear up with memory and he turned away from the murmuring gaggle of students, stepping quickly into the nearest room for a bit of privacy as he desperately tried to control his strangled breath.  
  


The kids were right, and wrong. The first time - the first _two_ times - Buffy died, Giles had indeed felt something. When she'd drowned, he'd felt uneasy and anxious for her safety but he hadn't pinpointed its origin. He'd merely thought he was getting too emotional over her, over the prophecy he'd known about but still hadn't been able to prevent. The second time, he'd been there. He'd watched it happen. It had been... the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. Worse than anything Eyghon had put him through. In some ways even worse than finding Jenny....  
  


Giles hadn't known about what happened in Scotland until other Council members had told him. He'd felt no warnings. It had come as a complete and utter shock to him.  
  


Sometimes, he thought it was more horrible than watching it happen right in front of him. Knowing that he hadn't been there... Watcher or not, he still felt that he should have been by her side. Perhaps dying, as well. In the thick of battle, defending his Slayer to the end...  
  


Instead, he'd been safely ensconced in his office in London, drinking tea, grading papers.  
  


The shattered remains of that teacup still lay gathered on the corner of his desk, his rug permanently stained.  
  


Giles sucked in a shaky breath, and opened his eyes.  
  


The library. A part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Of course he would seek solitude here, even subconsciously.  
  


Although, it wasn't as empty as his old library used to frequently be. There were a handful of students straggled about various tables, reading, studying, and writing. All of them carefully keeping their eyes averted from him, darting a glance here and there. Obviously they'd seen his harried entrance, and were now trying to grant him at least a modicum of privacy.  
  


"Giles," Willow's warm, soft voice greeted him, and he looked to his left to find her approaching. Her smile was comforting, though small, and didn't quite reach her eyes. "Join me in my office," It wasn't quite a suggestion, and she put her hand on his arm to guide him along with her.  
  


Once the door quietly clicked closed behind them, shutting them off from curious eyes and ears, she urged him to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. She sat in the other next to him, instead of in her own across from him.  
  


"I wondered when you would finally find your way here."  
  


Giles stared at his knees to avoid her eyes. He'd been avoiding her since the funeral; he'd been avoiding all of the old gang, really, but Willow was the only one who lived in the area and more of a threat to discover his unsteady control over his emotions.  
  


"The children," Giles eventually tried to explain, focusing on his breathing and calming down, "I merely overheard them talking. I- I needed..."  
  


"Everyone would understand if you took that bereavement leave that was offered." Willow pointed out gently, reaching forward to grasp one of his hands between hers. "I think you should."  
  


"That was created for Watchers th-that... for Active Watchers and Slayers. I would be taking advantage,"  
  


"No, you wouldn't." Willow said more firmly, shaking her head, and he lifted his eyes hesitantly to meet her gaze. She was frustrated with him, but he could handle that better than the soft compassion that had been on her face before. "Giles, you need to give yourself time to mourn, to heal. Last time, you left Sunnydale to come here. I think maybe you need to leave here, find someplace else, with less..."  
  


"Triggers?" Giles muttered, and Willow nodded.  
  


"No one would judge you for it." She told him softly. "You might not have been working with her recently, but you were still her Watcher, Giles."  
  


"Was I?" He whispered. "We hadn't spoken in months. We hadn't laid eyes on one another in _years_."  
  


"You have her journal, right?" Willow pointed out, and he raised his gaze toward her suspiciously. "We talked fairly often," Willow told him half apologetically. "She'd mentioned that she'd been writing, and I wondered about it since Dawn and I didn't find any journal in the box that Sam had brought back..."  
  


"I have it." Giles admitted. "It was addressed to me."  
  


"Of course it was." That knowledge seemed to please Willow, and he furrowed his brow at her curiously.  
  


Did she know what Buffy had written? How she had phrased her penmanship to be read by his eyes? How she had excitedly described new demon discoveries that she'd thought Giles would like, and how she rather fondly spoke of keeping up with her meditation? So much of the last few years of her life was held within those pages; new food she'd tried, new faces she'd met, new talents she had watched and guided Samantha O'Connor through discovering.  
  


Giles was unbearably proud of her.  
  


And yes, it was made apparent through her words on the page that she still thought of Giles fondly, had sought to inform him about what was going on in her life. There were even, in a few locations that he'd quickly memorized, moments where she'd referred to him with that nickname of hers.  
  


' _Well, Watcher-mine, gotta go. My Spidey Sense is tingling, and it's been weeks since I've slayed an honest-to-god every-day vampire._ '  
  


Giles smiled a little to himself. Willow was right, of course. He was still Buffy's Watcher.  
  


Had been.  
  


His smile faded as quickly as it'd come up.  
  


"Take some time for yourself." Willow encouraged. "Please."  
  


He promised her that he would think about it, but then stood and went to the door before she could say anything else. He paused momentarily, his hand on the knob.  
  


"Willow?" He half-turned back toward her, but didn't quite face her. He'd lived through enough life to know that talking things out truly did help ease the pressure. "I love her."  
  


"I know." Willow accepted his words gently.  
  


He didn't realize that he'd been tense, waiting for anger or disgust, until met with her warm approval. He relaxed his shoulders, released a soft breath, and then stepped back out into the library.  
  


He resolved to do differently than the last time he'd mourned her. He wouldn't hide away and pretend to be unaffected. Buffy deserved an acknowledgement and an honor of his feelings for her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Giles recalls his earlier return to London, and then later decides to take Willow's advice. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Since the previous chapter was short, I've decided to post another one today as well.

_I fled to the city with so much discounted_   
_Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now_   
_Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted_   
_Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now_

  
——

  
After defeating The First, after swallowing up the Hellmouth and what remained of Sunnydale in one fell swoop, Giles had fled to London - again.  
  


He'd taken a number of the remaining new Slayers with him, and he'd gone with the gang's blessing. Buffy's included.  
  


The last he'd seen her, she had a sad smile on her face. They'd never entirely discussed everything that had happened between them when he'd returned to Sunnydale. He was fairly certain that she wasn't still angry with him, but, there had been a lot of pain and anger and words between them that should've been apologized for.  
  


But Giles was afraid that if he started opening up to her again, he wouldn't stop. He was afraid that his riotous, barely-contained emotion would take him over. He was afraid that he would reveal the state of his heart and Buffy was not in the right place for that - not after just losing her home, friends, Spike...  
  


So with nothing more than a gentle smile, he'd left her. Again.  
  


He buried himself in his work, helping new Slayers, helping new Watchers, helping the New Council. Most of the time, his efforts to ignore his thoughts succeeded.  
  


Until one of the young Slayers phrased something a certain way. Until the Council received a new update from the traveling 'Sunnydale Slayer', as they still referred to her. Until Giles returned to his empty and quiet flat with only his requisite glass of scotch awaiting him.  
  


During those times, he was most tempted to call her. Figure out her next location and send her a postcard. Give in and learn how to use that damnable computer to send her an email.  
  


He didn't give in. Not for the first few months, anyhow.  
  


It wasn't until Willow eventually joined him at the new Council building that he first attempted to make contact with Buffy. Apparently the ladies had been emailing one another fairly consistently ever since they'd parted ways. With Willow’s moral support and technical oversight, Giles was able to create his own email account.  
  


“So, who do you want in your contacts?” Willow had asked, handling the set up process for him.  
  


“Buffy.”  
  


“Okay,” Willow was grinning as she typed in Buffy’s information from memory. Giles watched closely, committing it to his own memory as well. “Who else?”  
  


Giles had furrowed his brow at her. Since Willow was now one of the head librarians for the Council, and a fellow instructor, he didn’t need to reach her long distance. He could just walk down the hall. And Xander was perfectly capable with a cell phone, which was programmed into both Giles’ office phone and his phone at home.  
  


“You wanted to set up an entire email account just so you could talk to Buffy?” Willow asked, her tone oddly delighted by the idea.  
  


“Yes.” Giles answered, not understanding her attitude. “What’s wrong with that?”  
  


“Nothing! Nothing at all.” Willow had then smirked, and pushed herself up from the seat before guiding Giles down to replace her. “Here, then. It’s all ready to go. Just type your message into this box, then hit the send button over here.” She pointed to the screen as she spoke. “And just a reminder, once it’s sent you can’t get it back. So proofread once or twice.”  
  


“Okay.” Giles was frowning at the screen now as he thought over what he wanted to say. Perhaps something simple, to begin with.  
  


The following day there was a response awaiting him from Buffy, and he was admittedly embarrassed by the level of euphoria he felt upon reading her words on the screen. Granted, most of the message was her poking fun at him for joining the current century, but, he didn’t mind.  
  


He hadn’t been sure what to say to her, after that, however. While Buffy and Willow could easily chat back and forth about their daily lives, he and Buffy weren’t often like that. But he didn’t want to pester her about her work constantly, either, and make her think that was all he cared about or that he was attempting to boss her around.  
  


So he didn’t speak to her, much, even with the email. Every now and then he’d hear tale of a battle between one of the other stationed Slayers and a particularly nasty demon, and tell her about it. Sometimes she’d send him descriptions of historical cities she’d visited with pictures attached.  
  


He had never told her that he missed her. Never asked her when she would be near London again. Never told her that she was constantly in his thoughts, either right in the forefront or lingering in the back.  
  


And now, it was too late.  
  


... ... ...

  
Perhaps it was morbid, or masochistic, but he couldn't help but be drawn to the location of the incident. 'The Incident', that's how he thought of it in his mind, how he referred to it. Buffy's death. Her final death. Her true death.  
  


Scotland was cold this time of year, he'd remembered. He'd packed his heavy coat and a scarf, a couple of his heaviest sweaters, the usual socks and underwear. His favored single-handed sword, just in case, and a couple of stakes. He'd also tucked away Buffy’s journal, something that was never far from his person no matter where he was, and one of his own journals. Just in case he encountered something he felt needed recording.  
  


After all, the Council was still curious about the effects that the death of a Slayer had on their Watcher. It wasn’t something very often written down, and Giles understood for good reason. But, perhaps, he would find himself strong enough to write a little something down one day. For research’s sake.  
  


Frankly, he could care less about the New Council right now. Certainly they were more sympathetic than the Council of old, but that didn’t matter. Giles didn’t find himself caring about much of anything, lately. He was living on autopilot, and he knew it.  
  


So maybe Willow was right, maybe a bit of a break would do him some good. Get him back on track.  
  


He bet that she wouldn’t have suggested _this_ , though; breaking into the classified archives and recovering Buffy’s still-active file. Memorizing the specific location of The Incident until he was certain that he would be able to recall it in his sleep. Hiring a small charter to take him to the Isle of Iona. Hiking the hills with his pack on his shoulder and scabbard on his back until his compass assured him that he had arrived at the correct coordinates.  
  


Sam O'Connor had been very specific when she'd called the Council. A few members had been closer and able to arrive rather quickly, finding dead demons, Buffy's discarded sword, and an awful amount of blood. They'd catalogued and then cleaned the scene quickly, somehow managing to keep word of The Incident entirely out of the local news.  
  


Giles hadn't even known, until after he'd read the archives, that they'd waited two days to call him. Whether it had been because they were searching for her body, or because they were figuring out who should be the one to pass the news, that still irked him. She'd been gone from this world for forty-eight hours and he'd been none the wiser.  
  


_"Rupert Giles?"_   
  


_"Speaking. Greg, is that you? Why so- "_   
  


_"Are you sitting, Rupert?"_   
  


He hadn't been, but he did then. He'd begun to suspect, or some part of him had, at his old friend's tone of voice. At the fact he kept calling him by his first name.  
  


_"I... I'm damn sorry to say this, mate. She's gone. ... We received the call from her partner. Buffy Summers was killed in action, regarding a pack of unknown demons in Scotland..."_   
  


Giles didn't know if Greg had said anything else. His ears had started ringing at that point and hadn't stopped for hours after.  
  


Giles blinked and pulled himself back into focus, breathing deeply and slowly as he urged the memory to fade away.  
  


Heavy fog hung low around him, fitting the gloom of the moment rather perfectly in his opinion. This part of Scotland was, he had to admit, a gorgeous area, and for a long time he simply stood there amongst the grassy rocks admiring the shifting water of the nearby loch.  
  


Giles knelt, touched his palm to the grass, and closed his eyes. A sharp breeze coming off the water whipped through his hair and made his ears burn from the chill, but he ignored it. Perhaps right here, or somewhere very near to here, was where Buffy had fallen. Where a handful of demons had finally gotten the upper hand.  
  


Shivering from more than just the chill, Giles opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder, toward the path where he knew from the file that Sam O’Connor had fled to safety. The area was quiet, now - eerily so, which only further confirmed that something horrible had happened here. There were no gulls riding the air pockets nearby, no seals lounging in the lapping water, no chittering bugs or any other wild animal to speak of. Giles hadn't even see any other people around, other than the captain of his borrowed fishing vessel awaiting him at the docks.  
  


He sat on the damp ground and retrieved Buffy’s journal from his pack. Opening it to the last marked page, he held the pages carefully still against the wind as he read the section for the first time.  
  


_Dear Giles,_   
_Sam and I are headed to the Isle of Iona, today. There’s a tourist boat that can take us around for a pretty fair price. We’re pretty sure the pack of demons that have been terrorizing the locals have made one of those rocky outcroppings their home._   
_I’ll be glad when this job’s done. Scotland is beautiful in it’s own way, and fairly peaceful save for wild packs of evil demons - but I’m ready for someplace dry. And warm._   
_Surprise, surprise, right? I can picture your face now._   
_Hey - say I find out about some vampire activity in Malta? What do you say about meeting me there?_   
_Ha, you’d probably hate it, all that sun._   
_Oh - gotta go. Ride is here. Patrol report, coming soon!_   
_Buffy_

  
The cold air was making his eyes water, but the tightness in his chest couldn’t be blamed on the weather. Giles touched his fingers reverently against the lines of ink for a moment, returning his gaze to the water in front of him.  
  


As heartbroken as he still felt, there was a sense of peace about this place. He decided to stay for a little longer. Returning Buffy’s journal to his pack, he removed the scabbard from his back so that he could rest a little more comfortably.

... ... ...

After a while, Giles spied a small rocky trail skirting around behind the nearest peaking hill. He stood and re-shouldered his pack and scabbard, figuring he could do with a good stretch of his legs. He followed along the path at an easy pace, not really thinking of his destination, caught up in a daydream involving warm sand, a bright sun, and his Slayer...


	7. Chapter 7

_I was housed by your warmth, thus transformed_  
_By your grounded and giving and darkening scorn_  
  


——

  
She didn’t understand. Sure, it was feasible to survive for a while so long as you had fresh water to drink - and she’d gratefully found plenty of that from a small stream just outside of her makeshift home. Still, Slayer or not, she wasn’t built for roughing it. Her body wasn’t trained for fasting like this, especially not after expending so much energy fighting.  
  


And beside all of that, she had lost so much blood. She couldn’t even guess as to how much blood had seeped out of her as she’d carefully, slowly, made her way to this safe haven. How much had continued to drip between the rocks beneath her as she slept in the shallow cave.  
  


Her healing was taking so long to start doing its thing. When her brain had one of its brief fully-functioning moments, she’d guessed the slow healing had to do with a poison or something in the demon’s saliva.  
  


Buffy shuddered as she remembered their mouths on her, both of them at once, all biting hard and rough and angry. Unrelenting, vengeful. Her thick coat and layers had protected her somewhat, but only to a point. The beasts were used to chowing down through sheep wool and the long-coated cows that frequented the area. Her coat was, eventually, no match to their teeth.  
  


So, she mentally ticked off her fingers (because physically she could barely move a muscle): she hadn’t starved yet, hadn’t dehydrated yet, hadn’t bled out yet, and hadn’t frozen to death yet. There was certainly a case of hypothermia, and malnourishment - but she had no idea how long she’d been here. She kept passing out, and losing track of the hours. She wasn’t familiar enough with Scotland’s weather to keep track of the sunlight.  
  


The Slayer was the only thing keeping her alive, she was sure of it.  
  


Whenever she fell asleep, now, she was with her. The First Slayer. They’d reached a calm sort of camaraderie; she helped Buffy figure out how to find and drink from the cleanest areas of the stream. She kept her company.  
  


The Slayer had been annoyed and angry at first, when all Buffy did was complain about not actually dying after she’d accepted her fate. Then, when Buffy started rambling about other things; about Sam and the other dormant Hellmouths they found and all the new Slayers and how that was working out with the Powers and the old Scooby gang and Giles - then, she grew less annoyed, and more often sat and listened. Especially surprisingly, the Slayer was very interested in Giles.   
  


Talking about him comforted Buffy, anyway. So they ended up talking about Giles a lot. About the beginning, the library. About everything that happened in between. About what she thought was the end, and then later on when she was sure it was the end, and then, finally, the real end. The big battle of the Sunnydale Hellmouth.  
  


Alright; as the First Slayer reminded her, it wasn’t actually an end. Giles had - surprising her _completely_ \- not only reached out but did so through an email. Granted, afterward he'd still hardly used the thing. Their exchanged missives were short, and often awkward - at least, Buffy thought so. She felt as if he weren’t really saying what he wanted to say, which she thought was silly, considering no one else would read the words they were sharing with one another. (Unless the New Council was tracking his messages, which, honestly, wouldn't surprise her much.)  
  


Instead of pushing him, though, as she would have done in the past, she let it go. It was probable that he was just uncomfortable with computers, still.  
  


Still, she wrote to him in her journal.  
  


She would be now, had she only thought to bring it with her. She sighed quietly to herself, missing that connection she had built with him. Sure, maybe it was only one-way, but it had made her feel closer to him, even when they weren’t emailing half-truths and vague pleasantries.  
  


The First Slayer continued to huff at Buffy in annoyance, to berate her for her supposedly silly choices regarding her Watcher. She seemed to think that he’d made Buffy a better Slayer than she would have become on her own, a fact with which Buffy didn’t disagree, though she was surprised that the Slayer thought so.  
  


‘ _He is a good partner. I still don’t see the point of the others. Yet you lose the one who is good!_ ’  
  


‘I didn’t _lose_ _him_ , he _left_.’ Buffy griped in her head.  
  


Their conversations and arguments were always within Buffy’s head; speaking required too much energy, and to be honest, Buffy wasn’t entirely certain that she wasn’t just hallucinating the Slayer so that she didn’t feel so alone, and just talking to herself.  
  


‘Why am I even still alive.’ Buffy groaned silently in her head. She ached, everywhere, deeply. Breathing hurt. Opening her eyes - the one that wasn’t swollen shut, anyway - hurt. And it had now gotten to the point that she could no longer drag herself out toward the fresh water anymore.  
  


‘ _To be found._ ’  
  


‘It’s been days. Weeks! Shoot, Jesus himself was in the desert for what, forty days? It’s _had_ to have been - ’  
  


‘ _Not that long._ ’  
  


‘Damn it, I haven’t forgotten you tried to kill my friends, and kill me. Why can’t you just let me go in peace now?’ Buffy whimpered vocally, though she had no tears left to cry. This was definitely worse than anything else she’d experienced thus far. Death itself was less painful than this; being left half-mauled beneath a rocky outcropping in the endless Scotland chill.  
  


‘ _That was before._ ’  
  


Right. Buffy would have rolled her eyes, if she thought that the action wouldn’t spark a migraine.  
  


Even mentally talking with the Slayer exhausted her, and Buffy had no reason not to give in to the lull of sleep. At least then, she couldn’t consciously register the pain in her body.  
  


—————

  
_Remember me, love, when I'm reborn_  
_As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn_

  
——

  
‘ _Spirit guide!_ ’  
  


Buffy startled awake, and groaned deeply. Yep, still in pain. That meant she was still alive.  
  


“What,” She croaked aloud, her throat and mouth dry from a total lack of water the previous day or so. “ _You_ were my...”  
  


‘ _Guide him. He’ll come._ ’  
  


‘If you build it, they will come.' Buffy mocked. There was no response. 'We are beyond the time for riddles, chica.’ Buffy made sure her mental tone was gruff as could be. She was _tired_.  
  


‘ _He mourns you. I can feel him, though he is awake._ ’  
  


Buffy wasn’t sure how far the Slayer’s reach went. The spirit world was on a different plane of existence, right? Could that mean that she could go after the others again?  
  


‘Why- why are you- don’t you dare. Leave them alone.’  
  


‘ _Not attacking._’ The Slayer had picked up on Buffy’s warning quite well, and could roll her eyes the best out of anyone. ‘ _Guiding. His spirit is strong._ ’  
  


“I don't... understand.” Buffy forced her good eye open and pushed herself onto her side. She could see and hear the stream, only a few feet away. Perhaps she could gather the strength to crawl there, one more time. She licked her lips, uselessly. Her tongue felt like sandpaper.  
  


‘ _Listen. Use the senses. Feel._ ’  
  


‘My senses are shot! I’m done! I _can't_ anymore. I can’t. It’s too hard.’  
  


‘ _We are not weak._ ’ The Slayer scolded, and Buffy bristled, but then sighed heavily and closed her eyes again.  
  


“Only dying.” She mumbled aloud. "No biggie. Done it before."  
  


Something shifted outside, beyond the opening of the shallow cave. Something different from the darkly ironic merry tinkling of water against stone.  
  


Buffy opened her eyes again, and tried to listen harder. One of her ears had rang for days and days and days until eventually it stopped hearing anything at all. It was difficult for her to discern whether she’d actually heard something by the stream, or whether she'd just wanted to.  
  


Perhaps, though, there was an animal. The thought of something mildly more substantial to eat clawed at her insides. Catching it was a joke to think, however. There was no way she had the energy for that.  
  


‘ _Not food. Mate._’  
  


‘ _Excuse_ me?!’  
  


An image of Giles suddenly appeared in her head, and she was amazed to find that she could still blush, after everything.  
  


‘Stop that!’ Buffy scolded, violently embarrassed with herself.  
  


‘ _Go. Now. Up!_ ’ The urgency in the Slayer’s voice moved Buffy more than anything.  
  


Drawing on every ounce of strength she had left, Buffy pushed herself up off the rocky ground and stumbled toward the opening of the outcropping. The Power within her was the only thing keeping her on her feet; she stumbled on a larger stone and landed her hand heavily against the wall.  
  


‘There’s no one here... no one has ever come by here in the last... what, three weeks?’ She guessed the time.  
  


‘ _I... see now._ ’  
  


‘See what?’ Buffy was bewildered, confused, and dizzy. So very, very dizzy. She leaned more heavily against the rocks beside her.  
  


‘ _The power of Love. Of Friends. Of Him-Watcher._ ’  
  


The shuffling movement outside stopped suddenly, the breathing held. She could hear, through her remaining good ear, the careful unsheathing of a sword; metal brushing against the scabbard. She would know that sound anywhere. She held her own breath, unable to fathom the hope that there was actually a _person_ here. A person with a sword; a Council member? Or... could it _really_ be... she couldn't dare let herself hope the impossible.  
  


She heard a small release of breath; the person relaxing into the rush of adrenaline that spiked through the veins before a fight.  
  


“If this be my last breath, may it be in honor of my Slayer.” His voice was low, calm, and reverent. His phrase sounded formal enough that she wondered if it were Watcher commonplace.  
  


That wonder was very brief, because the sound of his voice had just confirmed what she’d been terrified to hope. He was really here. He was real. She was still really alive.  
  


Either that, or the universe _really_ wanted to shit on her big time.  
  


“ _Giles_ ,” Her cracked voice came out in a sob; she’d never expected to be saying his name aloud again. She hadn’t expected to speak to anyone again - much less this person who meant everything to her. Her voice was so weak that she wasn't sure she'd been heard.  
  


She stepped vulnerably out into the sheath of sunlight pouring through the clouds, out from the meager safety of her cave. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut squinted in the harsh brightness, as she desperately tried to see clearly the human form before her.  
  


His sword clattered to the ground, startling her. Not only the noise - Giles would never treat his beloved weapon in such a manner if he could help it.  
  


Her eye focused, finding him staring at her, his mouth parted slightly in disbelief, his eyes creased with pain. But those familiar green-and-amber irises were also wide and shining brightly with tears, and Buffy couldn’t hold herself up any longer. She had nothing left. Her relief at his presence had her knees buckling beneath her, and he wasn’t close enough to catch her.  
  


“Buffy!” He cried out, his voice suddenly too loud, and then he was kneeling on the grassy rock next to her, clutching her into his lap, urgently pushing her mud-and-blood-matted hair away from her face. “ _Buffy_ ,”  
  


She understood the disbelief in his voice, and reached up to loosely grip one of his hands in her own. He immediately returned the gesture, his own grip much stronger than hers now. He was openly weeping, and she tried to smile up at him, but she’d used the last dredges of her energy to stand and meet him here.  
  


“I’ve got you,” Giles promised, swallowing deeply and shifting her suddenly. He reached for his discarded sword with one hand and slid it back into the scabbard before hoisting her up in his arms bridal style. “I’ve got you, Buffy. I've got you.”  
  


She tilted her head heavily against his chest, wishing she could express her gratitude, her emotion. She slid her cheek against his coat and scarf until her nose touched his neck.  
  


“Giles.” She whispered, unconsciousness pulling at her once more.  
  


The sweet relief and comfort that she suddenly felt was impossible for her to describe. Perhaps this was her new heaven. Giles carrying her home.  
  


She decided, in the end, it didn’t matter. One world to the next, or one country to the next - Giles was the one guiding her. Holding her. For the first time since the initial attack, she felt completely at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Sineya sounds OOC here. I wrote her part a looooong time since seeing any of her featured episodes. But I did want her to be the one more or less to slap Buffy upside the head about Giles XD


	8. Chapter 8

_I couldn't utter my love when it counted_  
_Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now_  
  


——

  
He had no idea what had led him to that oddly shaped jut of rock. Just as he had no idea how he managed to carry himself, his gear, and Buffy all the way back to the awaiting fishing boat.  
  


The captain was amazed by the addition to his vessel, but he quickly helped Giles rest her on the floor beneath the shelter of the cabin and wrap a bundle of blankets around her. He told Giles about a bed and breakfast nearby that would have supplies to tend to her, at least enough so that she could be transported to hospital.  
  


Giles quietly thanked him for his help, but kept his focus entirely on Buffy.  
  


Alive. Breathing. (Barely).  
  


“How...?” He wasn’t sure what he was asking, as he tenderly brushed her hair back from her temple, rubbing at a smudge of dirt. He wasn’t sure _who_ he was asking.  
  


He shook with relief, but forced himself to keep his focus and take care of Buffy. It was clear that she was still suffering from serious injuries from the demon attack, which worried him more than the dehydration or hypothermia. Why hadn’t her Powers healed her?  
  


He had a thousand questions rattling through his mind as he worked on autopilot, allowing the boat captain to speak with the b-and-b owner for him while he carried Buffy into the house. The woman was older, almost old enough to be his mother, probably, and introduced herself as Rachel. Immediately upon hearing the captain’s explanation and seeing Buffy in Giles’ arms, she’d quickly guided them up the stairs and to a room.  
  


“The room she and her friend had been staying in has already been rebooked,” She explained, watching with worry as Giles carefully settled Buffy onto the large bed and straightened her limbs comfortably. “But this one is open; you may use it for as long as you need. They came here to... to help us.” Her eyes welled up for a moment. “None of us realized how dangerous those... animals were,” She glanced hesitantly toward the boat captain, who’d followed them up.  
  


“Let me get more supplies for you,” He offered Giles. “What do you need?”  
  


Deeply touched by their concern for Buffy and their desire to help, Giles rattled off a list of items as he observed Buffy’s visible injuries.  
  


“And something warm,” Rachel suggested. “That coat is ruined...” They all stared at the claw and teeth marks that had shredded the material. “I have other clothes that she can use of mine.”  
  


“Thank you.” Giles made sure to look at them both individually, in the eye. “Sincerely.”  
  


“Don’t thank us yet, lad,” The captain advised him gently.  
  


Giles nodded, understanding, and when he left the room to head off to the store, Giles turned back toward Buffy.  
  


“Would you mind fetching some of those clothes you offered?” Giles requested of Rachel. “And some towels. I need to clean her up to get a clear view of these injuries.” Rachel nodded, and left just as quickly as the captain had.  
  


Buffy no longer appeared to be actively bleeding, which was somewhat relieving. He had to trust in her Powers that she didn’t have any serious internal injuries.  
  


He began to undress her with no thought but the urgency to get her clean and warm and comfortable. Unfortunately, a bit of her shirt was stuck to her skin with matted blood, and she yelped awake when he had to tug it loose.  
  


“I’m sorry,”  
  


“Christ, that hurt!” Her throat sounded impossibly raw, and he was amazed that she could speak at all.  
  


He was amazed over a lot of things, currently.  
  


Now that she was staring up at him, one eye still clear enough that he could see that deep, deep blue-green that he’d thought he’d never see again...  
  


“Oh, Buffy,” Giles couldn’t help the sob in his throat, and let go of her shirt to instead brush his hands against her cheeks, his thumb hovering carefully over her wounded eye. It was swollen and bruised, but the eye itself was probably still okay.  
  


“You’re really here.” She stared up at him in complete amazement, which he felt was highly undeserved given the circumstances. “You’re really here.” A tear leaked from the corner of her good eye, and he quickly caught it with his thumb. He wanted to say the same to her.  
  


“Can you sit up? Help me get you into the washroom,” He suggested gently, more as a way of explaining his intentions than actually believing she had any remaining strength within her to move. She didn’t need it, not right now. Not now that he was here. “I’ll take care of you,” He promised softly, easing her shirt over her shoulders. He hadn’t noticed before, but one of them was offset compared to the other.  
  


It had been dislocated. If her body had attempted to heal around it already - which was likely - then he’d be putting her in further pain as he set it properly.  
  


“Buffy...”  
  


“I know,” She grimaced, feeling the way his hand had settled and hesitated against that shoulder. Gently, he began to guide her arm out, and then up, taking his time as he felt her muscles shift around the bone.  
  


“Easy. Breathe with me,” He encouraged as he worked, and although she continued to wince periodically, she breathed with him and didn’t fight against the movement until the bone eventually popped back into place.  
  


“If my stomach wasn’t six kinds of empty, I’d throw up right about now.” Buffy moaned, gingerly shifting her shoulder to test it out.  
  


“I’m sorry, love,” Giles gave her an apologetic look as he knelt beside the bed to ease her boots and socks off. She watched him, quiet, sitting still until he had to help her to her feet so he could remove her trousers as well. She braced herself with her hands on his shoulders, and he trembled a bit with fear at the amount of weight she had to lean on him. As quiet as she was, she had to be in so much pain...  
  


The deep gashes on her thigh distracted him from any possible intimacy with the situation.  
  


“Jesus,” He murmured, peering at the wound with alarm, “Why haven’t these healed better?”  
  


“I was thinkin’ poison,” Buffy suggested, oddly calm to be standing before him in only her bra and panties.  
  


He looked up into her eyes from where he knelt, his brow furrowed in concern, but before he could say anything Rachel walked back into the room. She set a folded pile of clothes on the end of the bed and then took her stack of towels with her into the washroom, where they heard the water turn on.  
  


“Come,” He said softly as he stood and wrapped his arm around her waist to help her shuffle into the other room. “Let’s get you some water while we wait for the bath to warm up.”  
  


Her skin felt hot beneath his palm. Her body was clearly doing it’s best to repair itself; he guessed that if she was right about the poison, cleaning her wounds would help kickstart her Powers into full gear. He hoped.  
  


Once the bath was ready and the towels were set on the little end table, Rachel shifted to the door.  
  


“Would you like me to... stay? Help?” She offered, glancing between Giles and Buffy. Only then did Giles really consider the situation.  
  


Before he could open his mouth, however, Buffy’s hand squeezed tightly around his wrist.  
  


“Thank you, but we’ve... got this.” Buffy told her, trying to keep her voice confident even as it sounded rough and weak, and she had to pause periodically to catch her breath. “He’s been... patching me up for years. He knows what he’s doing.”  
  


Giles glanced away from her wry smile, hoping that his cheeks weren’t coloring noticeably. This was a little more than the usual patch up job, but, Buffy’s grip was unrelenting. A part of him was encouraged that perhaps her strength was returning to her.  
  


“The...” Rachel glanced into the bedroom, but they were still alone. “Demons. Did you get them?”  
  


“So you know why she and her partner were really here?” Giles noted with surprise, and Rachel nodded.  
  


“I’ve seen what they did to my friend’s sheep.” She then gestured toward Buffy. “Those claw marks aren’t from any wild animal from around here. And besides that...” She suddenly looked wryly amused. “Apparently I was housing a vampire, when this one first arrived.”  
  


“What?” Giles turned his surprise toward Buffy, who currently was resting on top of the closed toilet seat.  
  


“Easy.” She gave a tiny shrug. “Gone now. Got him before he attacked anyone.” She shifted her leg with a small grimace, and Giles quickly refocused and reached to help her toward the tub. “Took out a few of the demon pack, but it was bigger... than Sam and I first scouted. At least two or three still out there.”  
  


“They changed locations after you took out their alpha. The Council is taking care of them.” Giles assured both women seriously. “I’ll call in and check up on the investigation. Later.”  
  


“Thank you.” Rachel murmured, “Both of you. ...I’ll grab an extra change of sheets for the bed, too, for you to have on hand.” Rachel offered softly before leaving them alone, closing the door behind her.  
  


“Can you lift your leg?” Giles asked, and Buffy attempted before immediately relaxing and shaking her head at him. “Put your arm around me,” He bent so she could loop her arm around the back of his neck, then lifted her up over the lip of the tub, easing her feet into the water as slowly as he could manage. “Temperature okay?”  
  


“Ah,” She hissed a little, but then nodded her head. “It’s good. Stings.”  
  


Once she was seated, half-propped against the side, he reached for a washcloth and the soap.  
  


She was quiet as he methodically worked. He took his time, pressing the cloth against every inch of her skin with the utmost care. He wanted to make sure she didn’t have a speck of dirt or blood left on her, although, he did avoid the most intimate areas still covered by her bra and panties.  
  


The wet fabric clung to her skin and left little to the imagination. It made his pulse race within his veins. He tried to ignore that.  
  


There were so many bruises and scrapes on her skin, not to mention the deep gashes on her thigh and on her side. Some of it had scabbed over, and he knew that neither of them would like it when he would need to remove those scabs to flush the wounds clean.  
  


For now, he focused elsewhere. Let her have a moment of relaxation before he would be forced to put her through pain again. He was being selfish a little, too. Assuring himself, inch of skin by inch of skin, that she was real, that she was here.  
  


He used a cup to rinse water through her hair, his hand against her forehead to keep it away from her eyes, and she closed her eyes as she sighed heavily.  
  


“A girl could get used to this.” She hummed, and he raised his eyebrow at her before he unstoppered the tub to empty out the water and refill it fresh, rinsing the washcloth clean as well. He felt her fingers slide against the back of his shoulder, and looked back toward her. She was watching him now, her gaze impossibly soft. “Thank you, Giles."  
  


"Don't thank me yet." Giles softly, frustratingly copying the captain's words from earlier. His eyes dipped to her side, and her thigh, eyeing the marred skin. It would probably scar, even once her Powers worked their magic.  
  


"I thought I'd never see you again." She admitted, her tone heavy with emotion. Giles felt like he couldn't breathe, already reaching for her as her tears first began to fall.  
  


He didn't care that she was soaking his sweater through. She pressed her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso as tightly as she could, and he gingerly cradled her head with his palm as he stroked the other soothingly against her back. He couldn't help but weep quietly a little as well, as she sobbed against him. Very rarely has he ever witnessed Buffy cry like this. It shook him to his core.  
  


He'd held her, carrying her off that rock, but this was what felt like the first time. The first time in so very long.  
  


He touched his lips against her hair for a lingering moment, against the top of her head, and then after a breath against the side, just above her ear. Then another long kiss against her temple.  
  


He had no control. Only his desire to comfort her, to comfort himself. To assure them both of the reality of one another.  
  


"Giles," Buffy's whisper when he kissed her brow was tinted with confusion. He leaned back to look her in the eyes, his hands still cradling her head.  
  


"I'm sorry," He murmured, knowing that his eyes were still shining with tears, knowing that his expression was still too full of fear. Everything within him was bubbling to the surface, now, and he shook with the effort to keep it contained. "I'm sorry." He shifted forward and tilted his head down, touching his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes, breathing her in. Breathing until he wasn't shaking so much.  
  


The tip of her nose brushed against his, just briefly, and he startled back a couple of inches.  
  


She stared at him as if she were looking into his soul. Even the swelling of her other eye didn't detract from the power of her gaze, and all of his remaining breath was stolen from him.  
  


He hadn't shifted closer just then. It had been her.  
  


He would have attributed it to her relief, to something not so meaningful, but the look in her eyes told him otherwise. What he was feeling, what he was fighting with... his depth of emotion... she felt it, too.  
  


She didn't seem alarmed by it, either. As if her feelings were not new to her.  
  


A knock on the bathroom door startled them both; Buffy's flinch splashing the water and reminding Giles to turn off the faucet before the tub overran.  
  


"I'm back from the store," It was the boat captain. "I've set everything on the bed..."  
  


Giles pushed himself to his feet, after only one more glance in Buffy's direction, and stepped to the door to crack it open a bit.  
  


"Thank you," He told the man sincerely, reaching out to squeeze his arm. The captain returned the gesture with a compassionate expression on his face.  
  


"You have transportation to get to town once she's capable?" He asked with concern, and Giles nodded.  
  


"She's very tough. She'll get through this." Giles assured the man - and himself - confidently.  
  


"You seemed... a man in mourning." The captain gave him a confused look. "You didn't go there searching for her, did you?"  
  


"I..." Giles paused, considering the way he'd followed that rocky path, the way he'd been led almost right to the hidden outcropping where Buffy had spent the last weeks. "Not consciously, however, I believe..."  
  


"There were Powers at work." The captain nodded sagely, and clasped Giles' shoulder once more before stepping back. "I'll leave my number with Rachel should you require anything from me again."  
  


"Wait, the ferry," Giles remembered as the man stepped toward the bedroom door, but he waved Giles' words away and shook his head.  
  


"Don't worry about it." He refused payment for his services. "You keep the little woman happy; that's payment enough for me." He shut the bedroom door before Giles could say anything else, and Giles waited for a minute before returning to the washroom.  
  


He didn't want Buffy to see the blush on his cheeks.  
  


"Your 'little woman'," Buffy quoted the Scottish accent rather well, surprisingly, "is turning into a little prune in here."  
  


His blush deepened at her comment, but he settled back beside the tub and proceeded to clean and comb through her hair until it was soft and shiny again.  
  


"Ehm..." He hesitated for the first time, darting his eyes away from her body for a moment. "Are you able to... d-do the rest?"  
  


"Yeah," Buffy didn't laugh at his discomfort; she spoke softly and took the washcloth from his hand gently. "But I'll need your help with the bra... I can't reach it right now." She shifted her shoulders pointedly; she was still too sore to reach her arms back that far. Besides that, she'd probably tug too painfully on her side wound with the movement.  
  


Giles pressed his lips together, but nodded and shifted on his knees closer to her back and reached for the clasp. She was able to lift one arm up to cover her breasts as he loosened the fabric and then slid the straps off her shoulders.  
  


He swallowed, his blood humming like electricity in his veins, but he only curled his fingers over her uninjured shoulder and allowed her to pull the soggy bra from her arms and drop it to the floor beside him.  
  


"Alright?" He murmured, unsure about leaving her alone.  
  


She nodded, and he noticed a bit of a blush on her cheeks as well. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.  
  


"I'll be just outside." He couldn't stop himself from lowering his head to press a warm kiss against her shoulder. She smelled like the clean soap the b-and-b provided, but she also smelled like Buffy.  
  


The familiarity brought tears to his eyes, again. To imagine that he might've never experienced the scent of her skin again.  
  


Before she could catch the emotion on his face, he stood and left the room, leaving the door cracked a bit so that he could hear her when she called for him.  
  


Spying her dirtied and bloodied clothes on the floor beside the bed, Giles' knees finally gave out and he collapsed onto the floor next to them, bracing his arm on the mattress as he sucked in breath and tried not to sob aloud with the sheer relief that coursed through him.  
  


After a while, listening to the soft sounds Buffy made with the water in the room behind him, he felt calm again. He pushed himself back to his feet, wiped the tears from his face, and began to organize the items from the bags that the boat captain had placed on the end of the bed.  
  


His Slayer was injured, and needed his help. It was time to be a Watcher. Her Watcher.  
  


... ... ...

  
Giles awoke slowly, smiling a little to himself at the warmth he felt cradled next to him. Turning his head, he nuzzled his nose into her hair, against the side of her neck, breathing in her scent. She giggled quietly, and then groaned and winced away from him.  
  


Giles immediately alerted to full consciousness and sat up, shifting away from her.  
  


“I-I’m sor- ” He apologized anxiously, but she shook her head even as she continued to grimace.  
  


“Not your fault... tickled. Still really sore.”  
  


She’d been laying on her good side, Giles’ side pressed gently against her back, but her lack of movement throughout the night no doubt left her muscles in stiff agony.  
  


He tried to will his blush away as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor, but he was rather mortified with himself. Practically _snuggling_ in his sleep. How embarrassing.  
  


He heard her carefully roll onto her back, and he looked at her over his shoulder. The discomfort on her face seemed a bit different, now, and he opened his mouth to attempt another apology.  
  


“I need to pee.” She sighed in dismay, and it took him a second before he realized the predicament, and he closed his mouth, abandoning the apology.  
  


As he assisted her to her feet, and across the floor to the bathroom, she didn’t fuss or argue. It took her a few minutes longer than normal, but she managed to do everything else otherwise herself, while Giles waited with his face almost pressed to the door. When she gave the all clear, he turned and helped her up and then held a majority of her weight while she washed her hands at the sink.  
  


A shiver of terror went through him, beyond his control. She was so weak, and exhausted. He’d seen her weary and he’d seen her battered but never in a state such as this. A dark corner of his mind clamored about comparability to her actual deaths, but Giles quickly slammed the door closed on those thoughts and tucked her back into bed, on her back to ease the strain on her good side. Overcompensation would not help her.  
  


“Giles-” Her tone was what stopped him as he headed toward the main door. When he turned back in silent question, she looked shy beneath the tired droop of her eyes. “I feel better knowing you’re close.” She admitted softly. His heart soared and then hammered painfully in his chest, but he slammed that door tightly closed, too.  
  


“You’re quite dehydrated, Buffy.” Giles reminded her gently. “We need to get nutrients in you. Electrolytes, fluids.”  
  


“In a little bit?” She requested, and lifted her good hand toward him.  
  


Unable to resist her openness even for a moment, and inherently intent to protect her rare vulnerability, Giles returned to the bed without hesitation. His place, on the still-warm mattress, next to her.  
  


He didn’t want to aggravate her injuries, so he settled on his back as close as he dared, his shoulder just barely touching her good one. He rested his hand over hers, and she curled her fingers around his palm as if she’d been waiting for it.  
  


He kept his breathing calm and slow, but he didn’t close his eyes. Listening to the sound of her breaths - still a bit ragged and raw - and feeling the grip of her hand eventually loosen slightly, he used his other senses to tell him when she’d drifted back to sleep.  
  


She would need another dose of medication with her ‘breakfast’, as well. Pain management, anti-inflammatory’s, antibiotic prophylaxes in case the demons had been carrying any known viruses... and a concoction Giles had made up himself last night, with a tiny bit of spell-work, to help clear out the poison in her system.  
  


Her dressings would need changed, too; during the night and particularly after the trip to the bathroom, her wounds had stained dull pink blots in the white bandages. He didn’t want to wake her yet, though, so he gingerly eased himself from the bed and quietly left to deal with breakfast.  
  


Rachel seemed to have been expecting him. On a tray tucked in the corner of the kitchen was a bowl of basic broth, a small plate of sliced veggies and tomato, and two fresh oranges as well. Touching the side of the bowl, Giles was surprised to find the soup still warm. When he glanced up at the sound of feet entering the room behind him, it was Rachel, who smiled a little when she saw him.  
  


“That’s for your Buffy. Have you eaten anything, yourself?”  
  


“I’m not sure that I can.” Giles found himself admitting. He didn’t feel nauseous per se, but his stomach was unsettled and the thought of anything heavy made him grimace.  
  


“You didn’t sleep much last night either, I can tell.” She gave the dark circles beneath his eyes the kind of chiding look straight from a mother’s concern. “At least allow me to bring up a fresh pot of tea for you.” Without waiting for his answer, she brushed by him and busied herself with the stove. Giles took the tray in his hands.  
  


“Thank you.” He murmured earnestly, unable to quite meet her eyes when she glanced toward him again. “Helping me with her, allowing us to stay here, I- ” He shook his head slightly. “I owe you a great deal.”  
  


“You owe me nothing.” Rachel informed him firmly, her tone brooking no argument. Then, softly, she asked, “How is she doing?”  
  


“On the mend, but not out of the woods yet.” He answered honestly, worry coloring his tone and darkening is features. Rachel gestured her head toward the hallway.  
  


“Go on. I know you don’t want to be away from her for long. I’ll bring the tea up when it’s finished.”  
  


Giles’ feet were already moving toward the doorway when he hesitated, and paused, furrowing his brow slightly.  
  


“You seem to ‘know’ a lot of things.” He noted, and she smiled warmly.  
  


“I’ve been running this bed and breakfast for a long time. Certain things are recognizable no matter the face that’s wearing the expression.”  
  


Giles didn’t ask her to clarify, only gave her a small nod in gratitude for her help and then hurried back to the room as quickly as he dared with the tray in his hands. He didn’t need her clarification. Just because he didn’t want to think about it right now didn’t mean he didn’t know what she was talking about.  
  


Buffy was still asleep when he tiptoed into the room, and after he set the tray down on the end table, he stood and watched her for a few long minutes. Her presence, the soft pain-free expression on her sleeping face, the rise and fall of her chest; it all gave him comfort.  
  


He sat down on the mattress and gently trailed his fingers over her knuckles.  
  


“Hey, Watcher,” Buffy murmured sleepily, without opening her eyes, startling him. He’d been sure she was still asleep.  
  


“I have some broth here for you. Try and drink some,” He requested, pulling his hand away before he started lingering. She opened her eyes, then, giving him a long-suffering look. He raised his eyebrow, and she sighed and wriggled a little to push herself up.  
  


She winced, and leaned more of her weight on her good arm, but when Giles reached to help her she shook her head.  
  


“I got this.” Her determination was not just mere stubbornness. She never liked having to lean on people, especially not for the physical stuff anyway, as that was where her biggest gifts lay. (It was Giles’ opinion that her heart was her biggest gift, but obviously the Slayer strength was always the most immediately noticeable.)  
  


And with their past, he knew that she probably resented having to lean on him, specifically. Even if she’d seemed grateful for him yesterday, he was sure that wouldn’t last. Not when her pain drifted away, and all she had left was to wait for her body to fully heal. Patience was never one of her virtues. He imagined that soon enough she would become frustrated, and likely take it out on him.  
  


He wouldn’t blame her for it. It was just something to expect.  
  


“Hey, stop glowering.” Buffy called out, pulling his thoughts back into the present. “Pass over that tray, will you? I think I’m all used up for the moment.”  
  


She did, indeed, look exhausted from simply shifting her pillows against the headboard and then her body to lean up against them. Giles carefully rested the tray on the bed beside her, not wanting to put it atop her lap and aggravate the wound in her thigh.  
  


And while he was thinking of it...  
  


“May I address your bandages?” He requested promptly but respectfully. “While you eat.”  
  


She had picked up the bowl of broth first, passing over the spoon to drink it directly from the rim. She sighed quietly at the rather boring texture of her meal, but dutifully took another swallow before returning it to the tray.  
  


“I’m sorry there are no pancakes,” Giles teased her gently while he gathered the necessary items to change her dressings. “But we need to be careful not to overindulge while your body recovers.”  
  


“No overindulging.” Buffy repeated, her next sigh one of sad acceptance. When he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, she touched her fingers against his thigh. “So no smoochies either, then?”  
  


Giles startled again, even worse than before, and stared at her with wide eyes. The disappointment was obvious on her face, but she was already focused back toward her breakfast and picking up a slice of cucumber.  
  


He didn’t verbally respond to her words, deciding that she must be in some kind of pain-induced haze, and set about folding the sheet down to her knees, and then rolling her shirt up above her ribs. She was able to hold the fabric out of the way with her sore arm, as she continued to eat. Giles studiously focused on his task, and not on the soft warmth of her skin.  
  


Her deeper wounds seeped a lot, especially the first twenty-four hours after he'd had to reopen them; oozing a disgusting dark colored pus that cemented their belief there was poison involved. This morning as well as each time to come, Giles flushed out the cuts, murmuring apologies and trying not to watch how tightly she gripped the sheets as she whimpered through the pain.  
  


He gave her the medication after he had finished, her shirt rolled back down over her tummy and the bedsheets pulled back up over her bare legs. He waited until she had at least finished the broth before moving the tray back to the end table and taking his place beside her again.  
  


“You should eat something, too,” Buffy murmured, half-asleep again already. “The orange.” It was practically an order, but when Giles began peeling it, he gave her every other wedge.  
  


They munched in silence, a rather comfortable one all things considered, and she was fully asleep again when there was a light knock on the bedroom door.  
  


Rachel poked her head in, and stepped fully into the room once Giles gave her a confirming nod. Buffy was nestled against his side, her arm lengthwise along his and their fingers tangled together. He didn’t dare want to move.  
  


“Sorry, I got held up checking a customer out of their room. Had to reboil the water again.” Her smile was fond and troubled as she gazed over Buffy’s form. “She ate everything, that’s good.”  
  


“She made me eat some of the orange,” He admitted, and Rachel’s smile was less troubled when she met his eyes.  
  


“I’m sure she did.” She traded out the nearly empty breakfast tray for the smaller tea tray.  
  


“You don’t have to - I can- ”  
  


“Take this other orange for yourself - the whole thing this time. You can’t help her if you’re not taking care of yourself, too.” Rachel otherwise ignored his protests to help with the dishes, and held the tray out until he took the fruit from it. “I’ll bring up something from dinner later,” She told him as she headed for the door. “Don’t worry yourself about it. You get a free catering service for today.” She glanced back to give him a wink before she slipped out of the room.  
  


Giles was immensely appreciative of her help, but still felt uncomfortably as if he were free-loading. He, after all, was not gravely injured. There was no reason for someone needing to take care of _him_ , not when...  
  


When he turned his head to gaze down at her, Buffy was staring up at him. How did she keep awakening without him knowing?  
  


“You’ve had a rough couple weeks, too.” She slipped her hand free to stroke her palm against his cheek. “You should let somebody take care of you, too.” There was something heart-wrenching about _her_ telling him this, and he furrowed his brow, but she reached up further to slide her thumb over the lines on his forehead until he relaxed again. “I’d do it, heck - it’s my fault anyway - but I’m a little out of commission at the moment.”  
  


Buffy, take care of him? He could count on one hand the number of times that’s happened. She seemed to be following his wavelength, too, because next she said,  
  


“I know, I know - Buffy doing the caretaker thing, when pigs fly right?” She smiled ruefully. “I never did it enough, when I should have.”  
  


“Buffy, you can’t be _blamed_ for dy- ” He cut himself off, then finished, “almost dying. It’s certainly not your _fault_.”  
  


“Let’s take care of each other, okay?” She snuggled down into the sheet more comfortably, her hand drifting from his face down to his chest, resting there. She was sounding muzzy from the medication, now, so Giles tried not to take her words too deeply to heart. “From now on.”  
  


“Always.” He couldn’t help but murmur, his tone cracking slightly as he watched her fall back asleep. The weight of her hand stayed on his chest, and he moved carefully as he prepared his tea, so as not to jostle her off.


	9. Chapter 9

_And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted_   
_Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now  
  
_

——

  
Buffy slept a lot, the first few days. Giles continued to spend his time watching her, thanking God, the Powers, and anything else that might've had a hand in every breath that he watched her take.  
  


Every now and then, she would reach out in her sleep, with a hand or a foot, until she made contact with him. Then she would settle again, the hint of something almost happy on her face. Giles wondered who she was dreaming about, or if she knew who it really was providing her the comfort of another human body to be near.  
  


By the third evening, Buffy began to noticeably regain her strength back. The harsher wounds, particularly those on her side and thigh, were still red and scabbed, but the scabs were healthier now and it seemed that the poison had completely worked its way out of her body. Most of her smaller cuts and bruises faded away.  
  


Giles made notes in his journal about the poison saliva theory, and called the Council to have them inform their team on the ground about the danger. He did not mention Buffy to them - in all honesty, he wasn't sure whether it was more out of selfishness or because he wasn't yet one-hundred percent certain that she would make it through this.  
  


 _"Giles, you're supposed to be resting... recovering... not researching the demons that killed your Slayer."_ Greg advised him gently, his voice over the phone sounding much further away than he really was.  
  


"I don't want anyone else to die." Giles replied softly, his eyes on his sleeping Slayer, watching closely to the rise and fall of her chest.  
  


_"You're a good man... and thank you for the information. But please - stop looking into it. That avenue will not heal your pain."_   
  


He didn't consider telling Greg the truth. All that mattered to him, right now, was Buffy right in front of him, the two of them right in this moment.  
  


He did ask Greg about an extended budget for lodging and food, and the man happily complied, assuming he was finally accepting that mandated bereavement leave. Giles refused to continue free-loading off of Rachel's good will, though she did insist that they could stay at the b-and-b for as long as they liked.

... ... ...

Neither of them second-guessed continuing to share the bed; once Buffy was capable to she always snuggled up against him without hesitation, and he was more than content to hold her all night long if she allowed him. It was as if they were making up for all that time apart recently, making up for every sharp word in the past, every argument, every silent treatment.  
  


Buffy didn't verbally complain about her ear, but Giles could tell how uncomfortable she was with it the first time they made it downstairs for breakfast with the others.  
  


He was grateful that aside from some polite smiles from the other two couples, they were left alone and didn't need to bother with small talk. Still, Buffy's eyes darted around the room constantly as she and Giles plated their meals from the pans keeping warm on the stovetop. She kept her body shifted slightly, her good ear turned toward the room, and her grip on the utensils was tense.  
  


Without a word, Giles shuffled to her other side, "covering her blind side" so to speak, keeping his eyes focused toward the food to perhaps avoid her becoming annoyed with his insatiable desire to help. From his peripheral vision he watched her slowly relax, until she was smiling at him again as they sat across from one another at the little table by the window. Buffy sat so that her good ear was still pointed to the rest of the room, but her focus mostly seemed turned outside, when it wasn't on the plate in front of her. She had accepted his silent assurance to watch her back, and that relieved him.  
  


"Perhaps in a day or two, we'll go for a walk." Giles offered. Buffy nodded slowly, a brief glimpse of annoyance crossing her features. She didn't verbally protest, however, which Giles appreciated. She'd been almost out of breath just reaching the bottom of the stairs, this morning.  
  


Giles made a point to sit or stand on the side of her good ear whenever they were talking, striving not to make a big deal out of it just as he didn't make a big deal out of standing on her opposite side when they were around others. And he always touched her shoulder or leg or hand when he started a conversation with her, so she would know to focus what remained of her hearing toward him.  
  


A part of him acknowledged it was just another excuse to touch her, to lean into her. She told him she appreciated everything that he was doing for her, which he was admittedly surprised to hear. She was frustrated with her own disability, but still not with him. And once the poison was completely gone from her system, her rate of recovery sped up exponentially. Even her ear, in the end, seemed to heal fully.

  
With her hearing at one-hundred percent again, he no longer had the excuse to touch her. He fully expected her to start pushing him away any day now. To start rebelling against his assistance, and rebuilding that wall between them.  
  


But she didn't. She always looked so pleased to see him, even if he was only out of the room for a few minutes, that it made his heart ache. She even would - while her shoulder was still too tender to do so, anyway - let him brush her hair for her.  
  


He loved those moments, when she would sit on the bed or in the chair and let him sit or stand behind her, combing the brush through her hair with slow, methodical attentiveness. His fingers carded through the strands almost as much as the brush did, appreciative, and she always leaned a little against him, encouragingly. She taught him how to braid it, and after a few times, he even got pretty good at it.  
  


"I didn't feel you die." Giles admitted one morning, his back against the headboard of the bed and Buffy nestled between his outstretched legs. He was currently weaving her hair into a loose french braid, the gesture a little more practiced now than it had been before.  
  


"What?" Buffy wondered of the non-sequitur.  
  


"You were - supposedly - dead for two days before I was notified. I'd never known. I hadn't _felt_ it. I should have suspected that perhaps all was not as it seemed." He sighed to himself. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, as they said.  
  


"Felt it?" Buffy repeated, confused and interested. "What do you mean? Have you... when I died before, did you..." Her tone suddenly grew into one of dismay. "Oh, God, Giles I- "  
  


"Don't apologize, Buffy." Giles gently interrupted her. "It isn't anything you had any control over."  
  


She didn't reply verbally, but she settled her hand above his knee and gently squeezed.  
  


_~"Why didn't the Watchers keep fuller accounts of it? The journals just stop."~_

_~"Well, I suppose if they're anything like me, they just find the whole subject too..."~_

_~"Unseemly? Damn, love ya but you Watchers are such prigs sometimes."~_

_~"Painful... I was going to say."~_

  
It took him a moment, but eventually Giles felt in control of his emotions enough to continue,  
  


"I'm not even certain if there is any true merit to the lack of warning. The other two times, we had been..." He trailed off.  
  


"Closer." Buffy finished for him. He didn't say anything else, and she rubbed her thumb thoughtfully over his trouser leg. "There might be something to it. When I was in that cave, I... I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating, but, Sineya was with me. She said she could sense you, and she was guiding you to me."  
  


"I seem to recall her... distaste for me." Giles mused diplomatically, and Buffy chuckled lightly. The sound was not followed by a grimace or a racking cough, and that pleased him.  
  


"You grew on her."  
  


"Well, I can't say that I saw or felt anything direct leading me to that rock, but, I shall thank her profusely the next time I see her."  
  


"I'd be okay with you never seeing her again," Buffy replied quickly, her tone just on the side of worried. "Just because she likes you doesn't mean... I mean, she's still pretty neanderthal. She might attack you or something and claim it's some sort of mating ritual."  
  


" _Mating-_ " Giles guffawed, mostly out of nervousness, but then Buffy laughed too, and he had to pause with his hands in her hair because they were both giggling too much to finish the braid properly.  
  


He knew they were interacting far more intimately than they ever had before. The little touches between them became constant, became subconscious. Felt more natural than anything he'd felt in a long, long time. It was a quiet intimacy, though; neither of them spoke of it.  
  


He considered every careful touch a gesture of his love. He didn't have the words to tell her, nor the emotional fortitude, so he did his best to show her.  
  


He wasn't sure her purpose behind her responses, or her own gestures, but he reveled in her companionship. She may not be in love with him, the same that he was her, but she was his friend again. She thought of him dearly, he knew that much, and he would take that as it was.

... ... ...

As Buffy continued to show improvement, he kept his promise for a walk together. At first, they kept just around the house itself, then further on the property as her strength and stamina grew. Even when she didn't need to lean on him, she still curled her arm around his, or tangled her fingers between his.  
  


Giles did his best to keep his mind in the present, and not worry what would become of them in the future. Technically, she was already healthy enough to travel to London - which would soon be necessary. It wasn't fair to anyone else to continue keeping them in the dark about her survival.  
  


It was admittedly difficult for him to remember that, though.

  
They started training together - at _her_ suggestion. They tended to spend most of their time in the large barn, which was far enough from the b-and-b itself that their sparring wouldn't catch a curious eye. They began with meditation, both to ease her body back into fighting shape and also ease themselves back into the different sort of intimacy this aspect of their partnership garnered.  
  


Giles was overly careful with her, at first. Careful about becoming too comfortable, careful not to fall into old habits. They hadn't trained together in years. Even as they added more physical work as she became more capable of it, he still attempted to withhold himself.  
  


They'd said it in so many ways already, without words. How deeply they cared for one another. Sparring with her erased whatever measly distance he had left. Watching her improve, not only physically but mentally as well, warmed him to his soul.  
  


When she had lost her balance in a rare moment, falling from a support beam into a large pile of hay, Giles had frantically dug her free to find her uninjured and shaking with laughter.  
  


She'd been laughing so hard, she couldn't get back to her feet. He had sat down next to her in relief, and amazement, and joy at the expression on her face. He'd laughed a little too, because her happiness was infectious.  
  


And then he'd started crying.  
  


And he couldn't even feel embarrassed about it, because Buffy had then wrapped her arms around him and tugged him close, resting his head in her lap and drawing her fingers through his hair and making soothing sounds until he'd calmed down.  
  


After that he'd wanted to weep again, for different reasons. _Buffy loved him._ It was so obvious in the gentleness of her touch. Clarity came suddenly, in the blink of a moment, and it was total.  
  


Today, strolling along the fence line and watching the horses graze, Giles thought about that memory and knew it was time. It was time to use their words.  
  


The chilly breeze didn't feel so harsh to him, now. It felt refreshing. He felt new. And as he watched Buffy reach out to allow one of the horses to nuzzle her hand, he knew that she wasn't the only one who'd been blessed with another chance at life.  
  


"Buffy,"  
  


"Those demons are still out there, Giles." Buffy unintentionally interrupted him. "We need to call the Council."  
  


He closed his mouth, knowing that she was right, and nodded. The longer that the Council's 'investigation' took, the more likely that a person might lose their life.  
  


He was selfish, though. He knew as soon as the team found out that Buffy was actually alive, they'd want to celebrate, and then everyone back home would know. And while they absolutely deserved to rejoice in their friend being alive, Giles found it difficult to give up this Buffy, this Buffy that he's had all to himself for the last couple of weeks.  
  


"I can't defeat them on my own, and the others can’t defeat them if they don’t know the details that I know." Buffy reminded him softly, suddenly standing right in front of him. She placed her palm against his chest, over his heart, and he looked down at her questioningly. "But that doesn't mean we have to return to London when the team does."  
  


"What?"  
  


"I'm not ready to go back yet, either." She admitted, and he felt mildly embarrassed that she knew of his reservations so well. "There'll be a lot of attention on me, I'm sure... The Sunnydale Slayer, back from the dead. Again."  
  


"The others have missed you dearly," He acknowledged quietly. "Willow, Xander. Dawn. Ms. O'Connor."  
  


"You met Sam?" Buffy asked with pleasant surprise, and Giles blushed suddenly.  
  


"She... brought me your journal." He'd honestly completely forgotten about it once he had Buffy herself within his presence.  
  


"Oh." Her tone was difficult for him to discern. "Of course."  
  


"I... y-you can have it back, if you'd like. It's in my bag."  
  


"Did you read it?" She wondered, and he blinked at her. "Of course you read it," She said to herself, and then asked him, "Did you read all of it?"  
  


He nodded slowly, and her fingers pressed a little more firmly against his chest, her hand slowly fisting around his sweater.  
  


"Did you understand it?" She whispered, stepping closer to him. He nodded again, breathless.  
  


"Yes." He answered, just as quietly as she had.  
  


He did understand it, but only now. Only after seeing the way that she looked at him and feeling the way that she touched him.  
  


"I'm sorry I interrupted you a minute ago," She murmured, and while the subject of her journal seemed dropped, she didn't loosen her hold or move out of his space. "What were you going to say?"  
  


He'd lost his resolve, however. This wasn't the time, yet. There was still the job to do.  
  


"It can wait, until after- " He began calmly, easily, but she shook him slightly by the grip on his sweater, and frowned at him.  
  


"No."  
  


He startled at her seriousness, and then licked his lips nervously.  
  


"Say it, Giles."  
  


"You know what I'm going to say." He pouted in realization, mixed feelings about that discovery.  
  


"We've put off saying it before. I'm not wasting my time ever again. Say it."  
  


 _We? I?_ Giles felt breathless again, and now he wasn't sure if he was physically able to speak. He opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed, and tried again.  
  


"B-Buffy- "  
  


"Mr. Giles?" Rachel's voice rang out across the yard, from the back door of the b-and-b. "You have a phone call from London!"  
  


Giles and Buffy stared at one another for a lingering, heavy moment, until he eventually broke it to call over his shoulder, somewhat annoyed,  
  


"I'll be there in a moment!"  
  


Buffy let out a soft sigh, a sound of disappointment, and her hand dropped from his sweater. Before she could step away from him, however, he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her against him.  
  


"I love you, my Slayer," He murmured intently, lowering his head to kiss the surprise from her mouth. "I love you, so," He moaned softly against her lips, their warmth and their softness drawing his attention away from everything else. "Buffy..." The world around them ceased to exist.  
  


Her hands slid along his back and she leaned further against him, ardently returning his kiss.  
  


For the first time since receiving that horrible phone call in his office, Giles felt like singing.  
  


Though perhaps he would do so later, when his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied by more pleasing activities.


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy waited anxiously, quietly, as Giles spoke on the phone line in the otherwise empty kitchen.  
  


She could barely believe anything that had happened since she'd managed to drag herself into that cave, and sometimes she still questioned whether any of this was real.  
  


Giles, loving her, so gently and carefully. Tending to her wounds with the reverence of someone more than just a Watcher. Gazing at her when he thought she didn't know, for minutes at a time, maybe even hours while she slept. Compassionate and soft and tender and all of these things she hadn't ever expected from him again.  
  


And now he's kissed her. Told her, out loud, that he loved her. But before she could say it back, he had to deal with this phone call. She wanted to be angry at the person on the other end of the line; grab the phone and yell at them for interrupting and then get back to...  
  


But then she heard the voice of the caller, and all the annoyance left her.  
  


_"Heya G-man, sorry to interrupt your...um, vacation..."_  
  


"Don't call me that." Giles immediately huffed, and Xander chuckled lightly, almost sounding relieved.  
  


Buffy felt the tears in her eyes and bit down hard on her lip so she didn't sob aloud. _Xander_ , God, Xander - she really was alive. And she _missed_ her friends, deeply. Xander didn't even know that she was alive.  
  


Buffy sucked in a sharp breath, and Giles darted his gaze toward her immediately. The question in his eyes shifted into concern, and he reached his free hand out to grab hers, squeezing tightly as he gave her a tiny nod.  
  


He understood.  
  


"What is it, Xander." He wondered softly, more focused on Buffy. He kept his gaze direct and she stared into it, drawing strength from it, as she listened in.  
  


_"Well... exams are coming up, soon, and Willow has been subbing in great but we really need you to be the one to distribute them... you were their professor for most of the year. You'll grade them more fairly."_  
  


"I understand, Xander." Giles replied truthfully. "You're quite right. I... I'm ready to return, anyway."  
  


Buffy nodded in agreement at his words, and rubbed her thumbs against the back of his palm. He gave her a tiny smile, though it looked disappointed as well.  
  


"Listen. The team hunting down the Isle of Iona demons - have they made contact yet?"  
  


_"Um, well no, but, I really don't think you should be concerning yourself- "_  
  


"I realize you may think you're looking out for my mental health, Xander, but I advise you to end that sentence where it is." Giles interrupted tersely. "Tell the team to fall back. Await further information. I'd like to meet with you as soon as I return. You, and Willow, and Ms. O'Connor, and Dawn as well." He seemed to be naming people as he thought of them.  
  


_"Why- Giles, I- ...Dawn? What's she got to do with this?"_  
  


"Please?" Giles requested. "Only you four. Once I've booked the- my ticket, I'll forward you the itinerary. Be waiting at my flat for me."  
  


_"What is this, Giles? Greg Phillips told me you've been researching the demons, and I know it was you that broke into the filing office last month. You shouldn't have seen that."_  
  


"I have seen Buffy lie dead on the floor before me." Giles gritted out, continuing to stare into Buffy's eyes, and she squeezed his hand a little harder. "We all have. The photos in that file were hardly worse."  
  


_"But it is worse, Giles."_ Xander sounded more emotional, now, and a tear broke free down Buffy's cheek. Giles tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear to reach out and gently brush the wetness away. _"Last time she looked like... like an angel. Like she was sleeping. This was... violent. When I saw all that blood for the first time, Giles, I- I threw up. In the middle of the war room with the other active Slayers and Watchers standing there, I just threw up all over myself and the floor.'  
  
_

"I'm... sorry, Xander." Giles murmured. "I didn't know that."  
  


_"Of course you didn't know. You were falling apart and none of us wanted to add on any more damage. I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad - I'm telling you so that you know you're not alone. And I'm not just your student anymore - I'm your peer, and your friend. And I'm telling you with all the love I got for you that it's not healthy what you're doing."_  
  


"Xander, please. Just meet with me at my flat. I'll explain everything - just not over the phone."  
  


Buffy quietly stepped closer and pressed her ear against Giles' chest, embracing him, and he wrapped one arm around her while re-securing the phone in his other hand.  
  


_"...Alright. Send me the flight details so I know when you'll be in."_  
  


"Thank you. And Xander?" Giles paused, and softened his voice again. "You're a good friend."  
  


_"Yeah, you too ya big softie. I'll see you soon okay?"_  
  


After Giles hung up, he wrapped both of his arms around Buffy and held her tightly against him, more firmly than he's held her in a long time. Buffy shivered, not quite sobbing, but overwhelmed by what she'd put her friends through.  
  


Of course Giles had been right in that she couldn't be blamed for almost dying, but, still. Maybe she _should_ have made him call them earlier on, even when she'd been too injured to leave the room.  
  


"Call the airline, Giles," She mumbled against his sweater. "Call them now."  
  


"Alright." He soothed his hands up and down her back, and she melted further against him. When he twisted to pick up the phone again, she refused to let him go, so he comfortably relaxed an arm around her shoulders as he spoke to the ticketing agent.  
  


They would fly to London tomorrow. Buffy felt both excited and incredibly nervous. This was like her disappearance to L.A. times ten.  
  


"They're never gonna forgive me." Buffy moaned, rolling her head to press her forehead against his chest.  
  


"It's me they won't forgive," Giles assured her. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, burying his face into her hair, comforting himself as well as her. After a moment, he silently sighed and pulled back. “We should pack our things.”  
  


“We?” Buffy raised her eyebrow a little. “Our?”  
  


“Truthfully, I don’t have much to pull together, either.” Giles admitted.  
  


“How _did_ you manage to check that sword into luggage?” Buffy wondered as they slowly made their way back to their room.  
  


“Watcher’s Council perks,” Giles smirked a little, and Buffy pouted.  
  


“Whenever Sam and I were forced to travel by plane, we had to get creative with the weaponry... or leave it behind and gather whatever we needed in our new location.”  
  


“Oh,” Giles brightened a little. “While you were... well, we’ve recently been able to provide Slayers with almost equal travel perks.”  
  


“Almost equal?”  
  


“Well, most of the Slayers _are_ below legal age...”  
  


She admitted that was a good point.  
  


It didn’t take him long to pack most of their things; everything but the toiletries they would need in the morning. While he did that, Buffy carefully smoothed in the salve he’d created for the worst of her scars, which were in the pink and itchy stage. By the time she'd finished with her thigh and focused on the puckered wound crossing her side, he was done packing and eased himself onto the mattress beside her.  
  


"May I?" He murmured, holding his hand out for the container. She passed it over, and then peeled off her sweater completely before shimmying down to lay flat on her back. She told herself it was easier for him to manage it than doing it herself, but really, she wanted the excuse for him to touch her.  
  


She was still trying to think of ways to get him to braid her hair again, sometime soon. The feeling of his fingers in her hair was heavenly. Plus, sitting snuggled in with his long legs stretched out around her had been particularly nice, too.  
  


This wound hadn't been quite as deep as the scratches on her thigh, thankfully, but the longest of claw marks stretched from the side of her hip all the way across just beneath the opposite breast, at her bra-line. Giles tended to each gash as attentively as he had when they were fresh and raw with pain, and his tenderness almost brought tears to her eyes again. He focused intently on rubbing the medicine in gently, his hand warm against her skin, and she lifted her hand to rest it against his cheek.  
  


He smiled a little, but didn't shift his focus until he was satisfied the job was done. He turned away to close up the container of salve and set it on the bedside table, and as Buffy reached out to draw him back toward her, she was pleasantly surprised that she didn't need to - Giles immediately turned back to his previous position, leaning on his elbow alongside her, even closer this time.  
  


He gave her that little smile again as he looked down at her, brushing his hand against the side of her head, moving her hair back from her face. His sweater hung off of him a bit and she slipped her hand up beneath it, resting her palm against the scar on his stomach. She rubbed her thumb over it before sliding her hand up further to his chest, feeling his heart beat firmly against her fingers, his chest hair softer than she expected.  
  


She could see in his face and in his eyes how much he loved her, and it overwhelmed her, so she twisted her wrist and gripped the inside of his sweater, using it to tug him in.  
  


They kissed each other softly and slowly, her hand once more against the beat of his heart and his tangled into her hair. Their mouths moved together but neither of them pushed for more, and they must have kissed for hours because the next thing Buffy knew, it was time for supper.  
  


She whined in complaint as he shortened their kisses, pulling away for longer moments at a time until she finally stopped following after him and let her head settle on the mattress. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were bright and her frown of disappointment immediately turned into an appreciative grin.  
  


"You look... thoroughly snogged," She teased him, and he smiled delightedly at her phrasing.  
  


"So do you," He replied smugly, leaning his weight back onto his side so he could look at her with his head propped up in his hand. She let her eyes take him in for another lingering moment before she said softly,  
  


"Rupert Giles..."  
  


His expression became curious when she didn't immediately say anything else, and her smile widened.  
  


"I love you."  
  


His face softened and he reached out to rest his hand against her cheek again, brushing his thumb against the corner of her mouth. She wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking about, but he soon closed the space between them and kissed her as if they hadn't stopped.  
  


She felt him suddenly smile, so widely that they couldn't exactly kiss like they were, and he trailed his mouth across her jaw, and down her neck. She gasped softly in surprise but tilted her chin up, giving him more room, and he continued peppering smiling kisses along her collarbone as she curled her fingers around his arms.  
  


" _L is for the way you look at me,_ " He softly sang against her skin, " _O is for the only one I see. V is very, very, extra-ordinary. E is even more than anyone that you adore can,_ "  
  


"Nat King Cole, Giles? Really?" She carded her fingers through his hair as she chuckled gently. "You're such a sap."  
  


"I'm a romantic," He lifted his head briefly to correct her, "And you love it." He lowered his head again to kiss the hollow of her throat, and started singing again, " _Love, is all that I can give to you. Love, is more than just a game for two. Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break it, love was made for me and you._ "  
  


He punctuated each line with a kiss lower and lower on her chest, finishing just above her heart, where he lingered for a bit until he turned to rest his cheek there. His scruff was stubbly against the soft curve of her breast that wasn't covered by her bra, and she giggled a little as she shifted slightly beneath him, but she rested her hands against his head and held him as he used her for a pillow.  
  


Warm and content, Buffy decided she wouldn't mind so much if they missed supper.  
  


... ... ...   
  
  


"I'm not sure if this is the way to do it," Buffy murmured nervously as they stood outside his front door. Giles shifted the duffel bag up onto his shoulder, to take both of her hands in his own and guide her to face him.  
  


"Would you have rather I told them over the phone?" He pointed out gently, and she grimaced and shook her head.  
  


"Somehow coming back from the dead never gets any easier." She mumbled under her breath as she faced the door again, and Giles snorted out a nervous giggle. It put her a little at ease, though, and she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles before giving him a nod.  
  


He squeezed her hand encouragingly, and then used his keys to open the door.  
  


"Giles?" Xander got up from one of the couches in the living room, starting to approach. "You're a little early; did the flight- " He stopped, both speaking and walking, and stared as Giles and Buffy carefully stepped across the threshold together.  
  


Giles quietly lowered the bag to the floor and closed the door as Buffy watched Xander and tried not to wince at the pale shock on his face.  
  


"Buffy?" Sam's whisper of disbelief made Buffy realize that Xander hadn't been waiting in the living room alone, and she focused her attention on the other Slayer, who at least looked more amazed in her incredulity.  
  


But then, she'd never seen Buffy back from the dead, before.  
  


"Giles is back!" Dawn sang, coming into the room from the kitchen, followed by Willow. Sam's question had been too quiet for the other girls to hear, so they didn't stop until they were halfway across the room.  
  


Well, Dawn jerked to a halt, and then Willow ran into the back of her unknowingly.  
  


Everyone was silent for an agonizing minute, and Buffy reached for Giles' hand again without looking, mildly comforted by his sure grip.  
  


"Giles." Dawn whispered in horror, staring at Buffy wide-eyed. "What have you done?"  
  


"I've found her." Giles answered carefully, his joy at that purposefully reserved. Buffy swallowed, unsure whether to say anything or to wait for their questions.  
  


"But... the urn of Osiris..." Willow shook her head slowly, her brain still clearly not accepting what her eyes were seeing.  
  


"I didn't resurrect her," Giles assured them. "I _found_ her. I promise you- "  
  


"I have to check." Willow warned immediately, suddenly very serious, and she stepped a little closer to cast her hand over Buffy's body. Everyone else was tense, quiet, and very still as Willow peered into the space between them, reading the aura she was searching.  
  


"Were you really so far gone that they think you might..." Buffy furrowed her brow at Giles. "What, conjure a fake Buffy?" She gave Willow a tiny bit of an annoyed look. "Or am I a robot, again?"  
  


"You could also be undead." Xander pointed out shakily, looking unsure whether to be completely horrified or a little bit hopeful.  
  


"Oh, Zombie Buffy." Buffy rolled her eyes at Giles. "Very kinky."  
  


" _Kinky?_ " Xander repeated shrilly. "Oh God Giles, please tell me you did not pull a _Spike_."  
  


"I most certainly did not!" Giles huffed, flushing, and Buffy tightened her grip on his hand as Willow slowly lowered her arm.  
  


"Oh my God." Willow whispered.  
  


"What? What is it?" Dawn demanded, stepping up beside the witch, finally a little bit closer to Buffy. She resisted the urge to reach out for her baby sister, but only just barely. There was still too much horror in Dawn's eyes.  
  


"I... can feel the remnants of... of the resurrection spell. _Our_ resurrection spell," She hurriedly clarified when Xander turned murderous eyes on Giles. His expression quickly deflated into shame, and then confusion. "And... my magics, from when I... well... " She looked at Buffy apologetically.  
  


"It's all good, Will. You were evil at the time." Buffy replied glibly.  
  


"So you're... real?" Dawn questioned shakily, her voice impossibly soft. Buffy felt her eyes tear up and she nodded. Giles gave her hand a supportive squeeze. "Really real?"  
  


"Really really." Buffy assured her, and Dawn sobbed and leapt forward, grasping Buffy tightly in a hug. Only then did Buffy let go of Giles, to hug her sister in return.  
  


They cried against each other in relief for a moment, and when Buffy opened her eyes Willow was standing there in shock with her hand over her mouth. Xander and Sam both seemed frozen as well, and primarily still confused.  
  


"You... but how?" Sam asked, having no reference for half of the conversation thus far.  
  


"I don't know." Buffy gingerly pulled herself free from Dawn, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. Then she slipped her palm beneath Giles' again and looked up at him. "It was like... magic. I have no idea how long I'd been in that cave, but I was sure I was gonna die there, and then suddenly... there was Giles. It was... unreal."  
  


He smiled gently at her and brushed his thumb across her knuckles, his hand warm and comforting.  
  


"That's why you broke into the filing office," Xander realized slowly, focusing on Giles now. "To find the location."  
  


"I did truly intend to mourn." Giles told him. "I went there to... pay my respects, I suppose. I needed to see it. To stand where..." He stopped himself, and squeezed Buffy's hand almost reflexively as if reminding himself that she _hadn't_ died, that she was standing right next to him. "I don't know what led me to that cave - hell, it was hardly that. It was an outcropping of rock, small and entirely unassuming. It would not have normally caught my eye, I'm sure of it."  
  


"So... for the past month you've been gone?" Xander looked perturbed now, verging on angry. "You've known? You _knew_ Buffy was alive and you- "  
  


"He saved me." Buffy interrupted before Xander could really get going. "He carried me out of there and nursed me back to health and I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him."  
  


"You let us go on thinking she was _gone!_ " Xander shouted, and Giles tensed.  
  


"Oh, if we're going to be pulling apart straws, shall I remind you of the weeks you spent planning to resurrect Buffy from the dead, without informing me, without attempting to _confirm_ where you were pulling her from, without _telling_ _me_ immediately that it was even a success?" Giles' temper regarding that particular situation surprised Buffy; she'd not seen him grow so angry about it before. Mortified, yes, but the anger was new to her.  
  


And glancing toward poor Sam, she just looked completely thrown for a loop as she looked around at everyone incredulously.  
  


"That was different!" Xander insisted. "We weren't sure if the spell would work! We didn't want to get your hopes up if it ended up failing." He trailed off and then added bitterly, "Anyway, _you_ ran off back to England and left us all in Sunnydale alone."  
  


"Xander," Willow warned, looking a little pale.  
  


"My Slayer was dead," Giles practically snarled, rather possessively too. "And the last thing I had said to her was horrid. I didn't want to be around myself, much less any of you, or that damned town- "  
  


"Guys!" Buffy shouted, squeezing Giles' hand until she was sure that it would hurt. He hissed and winced, and she loosened her grip but didn't let him pull away. "Stop shouting at each other. The past is the past and it can't be changed. Yes, we should have told you guys sooner about me surviving the attack. But that's not all on Giles. It was my decision too."  
  


Xander looked pained by that, but closed his mouth as he lowered his head.  
  


"The first week or so I was pretty much on the edge. It was bad. Really bad." She said softly, and Xander was the one that winced this time, going pale. She figured he was thinking of those photos he'd seen. Sam crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her lips into a thin line. She'd seen the monsters, fought them. Knowing from experience, Buffy figured she'd likely had nightmares about what they could do. "Giles wasn't thinking about anything other than me - hell, he didn't even take care of himself until I was well enough to force him to."  
  


"My continued silence on the matter was selfish." Giles admitted honestly, to her surprise and, by everyone's faces, theirs as well. "And I apologize for being selfish, but I don't regret it. I knew as soon as we returned to London that everything would be chaotic for a bit. Not only with you lot, but the Council as well. And I didn't want to deal with that. I wanted Buffy to myself."  
  


Buffy blinked at him in amazement, and reached over with her other hand to lightly stroke his arm. Giles was hardly ever so open about his feelings - and especially not with so many people at once.  
  


"That makes sense." Sam soothed gently. "She's... she's your Slayer." She met Buffy's eyes, and finally smiled a little, showing her relief.  
  


Dawn took a breath, and added,  
  


"She's my sister, and I'm a little annoyed too I'll be honest, but... I know you. I know you'd have been taking the best care of her."  
  


"She is my... heart." Giles looked at Buffy as he spoke. "My..."  
  


Buffy met his gaze warmly, though from the corner of her eye she could see Sam truly smile for the first time since they walked into the apartment. Willow was smiling, too, though Dawn looked confused and mildly disturbed. Buffy couldn't see Xander from the angle he was standing, and she didn't want to look away from Giles to check.  
  


Buffy reached up to rest her free hand against his cheek, and he gave her the hint of a smile. She knew he was probably terribly embarrassed by saying these things in front of the others, but she was incredibly happy that he had.  
  


"My Watcher." She hummed softly, her voice only growing softer with each word that followed, "My teacher... my partner... my lover." His smile widened a little bit further with each title.  
  


"Huh now?" Dawn blurted, and Sam snorted in amusement.  
  


"My Watcher." Buffy repeated casually, rubbing her thumb against the curve of his cheek. He tilted his head into her palm.  
  


" _That's_ not the part I'm questioning and you know it!" Dawn protested, growing further agitated by the way none of the others seemed all that shocked.  
  


"How're we gonna tell the Council?" Sam questioned, and Buffy finally looked away from Giles to look her friend in the eye. Sam had tears in her eyes, nothing but happiness on her face, and Buffy finally fully relaxed in relief. They weren't mad at her, and they didn't seem all that permanently angry at Giles, either.  
  


"We could just have her walk into Headquarters." Xander mused. "Might be funny. ...Or, they might arrest her thinking she's a face-robbing demon."  
  


"I'm not talkin' about her being alive," Sam laughed, "I'm talkin' about her having the hots for her Watcher!"  
  


"Sam!" Buffy accused in loving exasperation, and pulled away from Giles to hold her arms out. The Irish girl was already moving forward as well, meeting her hug with a fervent one of her own. "I've missed you so much." Buffy mumbled into her hair.  
  


"You've got no idea, lady," Sam returned.  
  


Buffy couldn't help but grimace as Sam's arm squeezed tightly around the tenderness of Buffy's side, but she ignored the worry creasing Willow's features as her best friend noticed. She managed to finish the hug and ease away from Sam more or less casually.  
  


"Well..." Xander mused, "I suppose Buffy being alive and well _would_ probably go over better than the other thing..."  
  


"I don't care what the Council thinks." Giles announced firmly. "I'll resign if I have to. ...Again. I love Buffy. And I'm not going to hide it."  
  


"Is that why you resigned the first time?!" Dawn gaped.  
  


"No, that was why he was fired the first time," Buffy corrected with a smile. She continued to hold on to the other Slayer's shoulders for a moment. "You're okay? They didn't catch you?"  
  


"No, you... your stupid plan worked." Sam glowered at her, but the gratefulness was in her eyes as well. "I owe you."  
  


"Just don't repay it in kind, alright?" Buffy requested, and she smirked and nodded. She stepped back, and Buffy turned fully toward Willow and Xander, then hesitated. "So, um... do I get a hug this time, or what?"  
  


"I dunno, is Giles gonna share?" Xander teased, and only then did Buffy realize her hand had ended up back within Giles'.  
  


"Oh," Buffy glanced at him and he looked more shy than embarrassed. He slipped his hand free and she reached out for both Scoobies at once, pulling them into a group hug. "I love you guys. I'm sorry we kept me a secret for so long."  
  


"I guess it could be worse..." Willow mused. "It was only for a month."  
  


"A horrible month, on top of another horrible month." Xander muttered, but he squeezed his arms tightly around them both. "We love you too, Buffy."  
  


Buffy grinned at them as they parted, tears of relief in her eyes again, and then she grinned at Giles. He smiled back, knowing how worried she'd been for this reunion, and at that warm pleasure on his face she shifted up against him and burrowed against his sweater. He wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands up and down her back, and then pressed his mouth against her hair.  
  


"So wait, this is normal? Buffy and Giles being like, lovey-dovey and all that? We're just rolling with it?" Dawn asked in confusion.  
  


"Where have you been the last decade, Dawn?" Xander laughed, and she huffed defensively.  
  


"I just figured we accepted the whole mutual pining thing for the rest of time!"  
  


"Yeah, but Buffy's back from the dead again," Willow noted, and Dawn gestured toward Buffy and Giles in annoyance.  
  


"Like that helped anything the first two times!"  
  


"Um... yeah, about that," Sam piped up. "This isn't the first time you're back from the dead? Er, so to speak?"  
  


"Oh, the first two times were literal." Willow replied, and she blinked.  
  


Before Buffy knew it, she, Giles, Dawn, and Willow were all squished next to one another on Giles' couch and Xander was bringing in a pile of snacks from the kitchen. Sam sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, and listened attentively to all the Scoobies trying to tell three or four different stories at once.  
  


Buffy sighed quietly as she leaned her head against Giles' shoulder, and he carded their fingers together.  
  


"You can't resign for me, Giles," Buffy told him quietly, while the others were distracted.  
  


"Watch me." He huffed, and she grinned a little at the play on words, shifting her chin up to put her mouth within reaching distance. Just as he lowered his head to meet her kiss, Dawn grabbed Buffy's arm and tugged her away from him and against her.  
  


"Come on! You've had smoochy time for a month!" The younger Summers' complained, "Give my poor eyes a break!"  
  


"Dawn," Buffy protested, laughing even as her side twinged a little for leaning on that side, "I was healing! We didn't spend the whole time kissing."  
  


"Surrrre," Xander drawled, rolling his eyes, and Giles reached for Buffy's arm closest to him and tugged her back.  
  


"I could have Buffy for the rest of my life, and it won't be long enough," He proclaimed, his tone too soft to get away with teasing, and Willow practically melted into the couch.  
  


"Oh my God!"  
  


"Aw, Giles," Buffy crooned, framing his jaw in her hands and kissing him warmly.  
  


He wrapped his arms around her to hold her more securely against him, and Dawn made a loud groaning noise as she reached out to snag the container of cheesy puffs from Xander, who was stuffing his face as he watched the kissing couple with interest.  
  


"We'll need to warn the Council immediately," He chortled around a mouthful of puffs. "They'll never be able to hide this."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thanks for reading. :-)


End file.
